


Falling For A Boy

by lumovr



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anorexia, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:30:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 36,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumovr/pseuds/lumovr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is finally attending his last year of high school. He thinks it will be an easy year with a few beatings from school, but nothing that will be more complicated then that. However, when Pete, the new boy every girl is fawning over, meets Patrick, will the year turn out differently then what he had expected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The pavement scuffed the heels of my shoes due to my reluctance on trying to walk properly. Maybe it was because my entire body is still tired from having to wake up at six in the morning, or the fact that this walk I was trying to avoid, was actually leading me to school. 

School. The one place where kids are treated fairly, and safe, even if one does not meet the ridiculously high standards the teachers, adults, and students set for you. A place where no one has to worry about being different, and being treated differently for being different. 

I'm just kidding of course. School was everything but that. 

As my walk only seem to grow shorter and shorter, so did the song that was playing on my ipod. I sighed as it came to a stop the same time I did. 

Today was the first day of school for senior year. I only had one more year left of high school before I could finally leave. Of course I would do something related to music, since that was the only thing I have ever had any interest in. Maybe join a band or something, but who am I kidding. I don't have any friends I could start a band with, and college? Well, if my grades were good enough, maybe I could get into a decent school that had a music program. My grades weren't bad, in fact, they were pretty good compared to the other kids here, but there was nothing special about me that would make any university want me. I never joined any clubs, or did anything extra that would make me stand out. I was just another person that would soon fall into the 9-5 routine. 

Before I could go farther into my thoughts, I was met with a hard push on the back, and soon, gravel. 

"Hey Patty!"

I lift my head up to see Mark, and the devilish grin he had on his face. Sighing, I pushed myself off of the ground, and patting my jeans to clear off the dirt. 

I take out my head phones, and stuff them in my pocket, turning my ipod off at the same time. Slowly, and very hesitantly, I walk into the building, and the last year of high school. 

*

Based on the conversations going around the school, there was apparently a new "bad boy" attending Glenbrook. I haven't seen this kid yet, but based on the girls, he was very, I guess the only way I can put it, hot. 

Yes. What a surprise. The "faggot" that everyone calls is actually gay. I sigh again, pushing away that thought as I see Mark approaching me. I lock my locker, and start walking away, but a grip on my back pack pulls me back, and I get slammed into the rows of lockers. I fall to the ground, and is met with a few kicks to my stomach and face, and the beating was sure to continue if the late bell hadn't rang, sending Mark, and his friends running off to class. 

I push myself into a sitting position, groaning heavily in the process, but I finally am able to rest my back against the cool metal. 

A surge of anger washes over me, and I slam the back of my head into the locker. 

I sigh again, and I want to just stay here forever, and not have to move, but that was not going to make anything better, so with that, I reach for my back pack, and pull myself up, wincing in pain. 

I start my walk to the restroom, which is around the corner, but just as I was about to turn, someone runs into me, sending me back down on the floor. 

"Holy smokes.", I mutter under my breathe. 

"Sorry dude, but I have no idea where this class is, and I'm new here, and I really need to get to class."

Grunting, I try once again to stand up. The pain consumes me, and I have to lean against the wall so that I don't fall to the ground again. 

"A-are you ok? I didn't do that by just running in to you. Did I?", the boy asks. 

I shake my head, not wanting to say anything. One, because I don't have anymore air in my lungs, and two, I don't want to make myself seem stupid, causing another person to be against me. 

"Well, music class can wait. Were you going to the bathroom?"

I stay silent, not wanting to meet his eyes. I hear him sighing, and feel his arms around my shoulder. 

"Here, lean on me. I'll help you to the bathroom."

"N-no it's fine. You should hurry up and get to class before -"

"I'm late? The bell rang twenty minutes ago."

And like that, he was helping me to the restroom. It was more of him dragging me, then me actually doing any walking, and it felt like forever, even though the restroom was only about ten feet away. 

The beatings are usually worse then this, but not having to go through this for two months, my body was not as immune.

He finally manages to get me inside, and I finally get to look at myself in the mirror. My forehead, cheek, and nose was bleeding. I can't believe the first person that has actually been nice to me, had to see me like this. I reach for the paper dispenser, but the boy beats me to it. 

"Here let me do it."

He turns the sink on, and dampens the paper towel, then brings it to my face. I drop my gaze, and I shift uncomfortably under the wet towel that's making the cuts sting. I start fiddling with my fingers, and doing everything I can to keep my gaze off of him. 

"Can you lift your head up a little?"

I inwardly groan, but lift my head up anyways, forcing me to look at his face, and amazing smile. I hadn't looked at the boy carefully until now. His black hair that was slightly falling in his face, made me use every inch of strength in my body to not sweep it away. If I do say so myself, he is really, really attractive. 

He finally takes his hands away, and turns around to throw the bloody towel away. 

"Maybe you should go see the nurse or something."

I shook my head. Going to the nurse would just make everything worse. 

I looked down at my watch and saw that we still had about thirty minutes left of class. 

"Um. Do you still need the directions to class? We still have about thirty minutes before lunch."

He nods, and hands me his schedule. Music third period. Great. Me too. 

"I have the same class. I guess we can walk together...", my voice trails off at the end of that sentence. 

"Great! I'm Pete by the way."

"Patrick. Nice meeting you Pete.", I say.


	2. Chapter 2

I walk into the noisy lunch room, looking for a place to sit down, if I was lucky enough to find one. Like I said before, I don't have any friends here, so there was no one to save me a seat. I wasn't popular, or even liked, so there wasn't anyone calling my name, asking me to sit with them when I walked into the room. 

I had a few friends in middle school, but most of them went to different high schools. My best friend Brendon, he moved to Las Vegas in sophomore year, leaving me alone in this slump ever since. I never tried to make friends, because after freshman year, everyone already had their own group of friends, and there was really no point in trying to fit in with them when Brendon and I couldn't the first year. 

I heard his band got signed, and they were starting to become popular. I still talk to him sometimes, when he has time between his busy schedule, but I've given up recently to really try talking to anyone.

I sigh, scanning over the lunch room once more to confirm, that there was, in fact, really no where to sit. Great. That means I have to go sit outside, and I guess I wouldn't really mind if it wasn't for the unpleasant weather I would be faced with. 

I buy a drink from the vending machine, and start walking outside. Luckily for me today, Mark had a basketball meeting, and wouldn't be here for another twenty minutes, giving me more then enough time to walk out and find a safe place to hide. 

l climb under the bleachers, lay down, and rest my head on my bag, recalling the beautiful boy I met earlier. Pete. We sat next to each other for music, and talked a lot. He listened to the type of music I listened to, and that just made him ten times more attractive. Unfortunately, he had second lunch, so we had to split ways, but he did have math, and science with me for six and seventh period. 

Maybe this year would be a little different. I mean, if him saying, "I'll see you later in math", implied that we were, at least, some what friends, then I was off to a good start, right? 

I turn over to lie on my stomach, but groan in pain when I made contact with the grass. I hadn't checked to see what the beating did to my stomach earlier. I sat up, and pulled my shirt up enough to examine the skin. As I had expected, it was an unpleasant shade of purple and blue. I groan again, and lay back down, this time, with my back to the ground. I put in my headphones and turn my music up, ignoring the pain that would consume me again later. 

*

"Hey Patrick!"

I turn around to the sound of my name that, for once, wasn't met by an angry punch in the face, but in fact, a smiling Pete. 

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Yes. I mean, no. No, of course I don't mind.", I say blushing. 

Great job Pat. 

He chuckles, and the two of us walk into class together, however, Mark was in this class, so when I was met with a hard shove, and my head meeting the corner of a desk, I automatically realized it was him. 

"Hey fag, watch where you're going!"

"Dude. What the fuck is your problem?", I hear Pete shout. 

I push myself off the floor with the help of Pete.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it.", I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Yeah. Worry about yourself or you'll be getting into some trouble.", Mark said.

Pete huffs, but soon follows after me as I walk to the back of the class. The period had already started, and the teacher was still no where to be seen. I sit down at the farthest desk in the corner, and lay my pounding head down on the table. 

"Hey Patrick, are you ok?"

He puts one hand on my arm, making me blush. I push my head farther down so he doesn't see, and I hear him sigh, and lift his hand. 

I have to tell Pete that we shouldn't be friends. If he stays around me, then Mark will, sooner or later, start beating him, and I wouldn't want to see that. 

I don't know why I am so attracted to this boy all of a sudden. Yes, he was very attractive, but there was just something about him. Whatever it is, it's going to be hard not seeing his beautiful smile anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

I was the first person out of the class, despite the fact that I was in the very back of the room, but I was in no mood to linger around, especially after deciding that hanging out with Pete was a bad idea.

Even though I got away from him now, I still had one more class with him before the end of the day. I sighed as I started to walk to the next class. 

"Hey fag!", Mark shouts. 

I gulp and turn around. He walks up and pushes me on the chest, causing me to fall back into the wall. 

"I have some text books I don't need anymore. Maybe you could find them useful."

He pushes me to the ground, unzips his back pack, and turns it over, causing all the contents inside to tumble out. Three heavy textbooks, folders, papers, and a full bottle of water falls on me. I groan in pain as one of the books hits me on the stomach and head. Mark leans down, picks up the bottle, opens it, and tosses the rest on me. The late bell rings, causing him to walk off laughing. 

I could feel the water seeping through my shirt. I sit up, pushing the damp papers and folders off of me. Before I could stand up, I hear someone clearing their throat, which causes me to look up and meet his eyes again. He reaches his hand out, and sighing in defeat, I take his hand, and pull myself up. 

"Are you ok Patrick?"

I nod, too embarrassed to say anything. 

"So why did you run off without me?"

"Look Pete, if you couldn't tell, I'm not a very liked person here, and I don't want people looking at you like the way they look at me. You're too good for that."

I look up to see his face, but it is emotionless. I sigh, and look back down at my feet. It feels like an eternity before he finally says anything again. 

"Pat, I don't care how other people look at me, as long as you do." 

He reaches his hand under my chin, and lifts it up, allowing me to see his beautiful smile. He kisses me on the cheek, and the both of us set off to the next class, together. 

*

Pete's POV *two weeks later*

I slam the door behind me as I run out of the house. I quickly run to the safety of my car, and drive off before anyone can stop me. I keep driving until I'm a few blocks away from his house. A sigh leaves my mouth. 

I haven't seen Patrick in a week, and it was killing me. We had gotten pretty close after that first day of school. I probably learned everything about him from that week, and he the same for me, well, everything except for my life at home. 

I can't tell him. It's not that I think he will stop talking to me, or judge me for it, because I know he isn't like that, but I know he is going to make me tell someone, or he will, and I can't let that happen. 

If anyone finds out, then I'm going to have to move again, and I can't afford to loose another friend, especially Patrick. He has been the only person I have actually ever truley liked. 

Maybe even a little more. 

I smile as I think about the kiss from the first day. I'm sure he thinks that it was just a simple action, one that was supposed to just calm him down, but it was more then that. 

I finally start the car again, and drive the rest of the way to his house. I came once. He was helping me with some homework. I'm surprised that I still remembered where it was. 

I sit in the car for what felt like hours, contemplating on whether I should go in or not, but I finally find enough courage to stand up, and walk up to the house, ringing the bell. 

I stand for a few minutes in complete silence. Maybe he isn't home. This was a bad idea anyways. Just as I was about to walk back to the car, I hear the door open, making me turn around quickly.

"Pete? What are you doing here?"

What was I doing here? I didn't even know the answer to that question, yet I was standing here, in front of him. Well I know one thing, I needed Patrick right now, and he was standing right there, in arms reach. 

As if he could read my mind, he pulled me into his arms, and after that, all I could do was cry. He was going to ask me why I haven't been going to school, and why I was crying right now, and why half of my face was bruised, and I was going to tell him, but right now, all he did was hold me, and that's all that I needed. 

Patrick POV

He doesn't come to school for a week, but out of no where, he shows up in front of my house, and starts crying. I'm not mad of course, I just don't understand anything that's going on right now, but I didn't want to ask while he was crying. 

Pete's in the shower right now. After finishing crying, he asked me if he could use it. Thinking of it now, he was wearing the same thing I last saw him in, a week ago, except this time, it was dirty, and he wasn't wearing his leather jacket, not to mention the huge bruise on his face.

The situation fogs my head, but I do hear the shower turning off. I'll get him some clothes. I run up the stairs, and grab a t shirt and sweat pants. 

"Pete, I ugh, grabbed some clothes for you.", I say, gently knocking on the bathroom door. 

He opens the door with one hand, while the other is holding the towel around his waist. I look at his shirtless body and gasp. There are dark bruises covering it that are purple and red, and knowing what it's like to get beaten up every day of my life, I could definitely see that those bruises were made from a beating. 

"Pete, what happened?"

"Um. Is it ok if I get dressed, and then tell you?"

I nod, quickly handing him the clothes, and going back to my room. I sat on my bed, tapping the sheets until I finally heard the squeak of the door, which meant that someone was coming in right now. 

"Do you need some ice or something? Some of those look really new."

He just shakes his head. My heart aches for him right now, and I just want him to tell me what happened, and who did it to him. 

"Are you going to tell me?", I ask quietly. 

He says and does nothing for a few seconds, but I finally see him slowly nodding his head. I let out a breathe, and sit back down on the bed next to him. 

"Tell me what happened Pete. I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise."

He turns his head away, but I could see the glassiness of his eyes. I put my hands on his face, and gently turn it towards me, being careful of the bruise. 

"I-", he starts, but stops, taking a shaky breath. 

"My parents, well they, they...",

He doesn't need to finish the sentence for my heart to stop. I already know what he is going to say, but I need to make sure. 

"Did they do... this?"

He slowly nods his head. 

"I know you won't understand, but please, Patrick, you can't tell anyone."

"No, no. I understand. I won't."

We stayed silent like that for a while until he started to tell me what happened. The last time I saw him, he ended up going home late, and his dad happened to be drunk, which caused the beating to be worst then usual, because of this, his dad wouldn't let him go to school the next day, but since he was home all day, his dad got more time to hit him, causing him not to be able to go to school the next day, and that was what had happened until today, when he finally got to slip away while his dad and mom were fighting. 

"I should go.", he finally says, standing up. 

I look at the clock and see that it's already ten. Luckily tomorrow was Saturday. 

"You should stay here tonight, or until you can go home, which I'm not letting you do."

"I can't ask you to do that Patrick."

"Well where are you going to go then."

He looks down, and I sigh, grabbing his arm.

"C'mon, I'll get you a tooth brush."

I can feel his body go limp in defeat, and a small smile crawls onto my face. I'm secretly really excited he is staying here with me. I mean, I'm not excited about why he is staying here, but that's not the point. 

"Do you need more pillows?"

He shakes his head. I haven't seen Pete so quiet before, and it was scary.

"Ok. Well I'll be across the hall."

I was about to close the door, when I barely here him say my name. 

"Yeah?"

"Can, you um, sleep with me...", he says, trailing off at the end. 

I grin. Luckily, he can't see me since the light in the room wasn't on. 

I walk over and lift the blankets up, crawling into the warm bed. I shift around, and so does Pete until we are comfortable, but the atmosphere was still a little tight, well that is until he puts his arms around my waist, and pulls me against him. 

My back feels hot from his chest, but it was comfortable. I soon relax, and I can tell he does too, even though his body was still shaking a little bit. I grab his hand that is around my waist, and pull it up to my lips, gently kiss them. He rubs it against my cheek, and whispers something that I wouldn't have been able to hear if I wasn't so close to him. 

"I love you Pat."


	4. Chapter 4

Pete left my house yesterday. I was hesitant on letting him go back, but he said it would be all right now, because his dad didn't usually hit him when he wasn't drunk or in a bad mood, but the only reason why I actually did let him go back was the fact that he promised he would come back if something happened. 

He still hasen't shown up to school yet, but I was just early, and besides, he has my phone number now, and would have called me if anything bad happened.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Just thinking about that boy gave me anxiety, but a smile still crept onto my face when I saw his car pull up to the school parking lot. 

The walk from him to me felt like forever, but eventually, he stopped right in front of me, planting a kiss on my nose. I felt my cheeks burn, and I looked around, making sure no one saw that. Everyone called me a fag, but no one really knew that I did actually like guys, especially the one they're all chasing after. 

"Don't worry, no ones going to see us."

I smile and nod, even though I was still a little edgy. 

"Did anything happen? You know, when you went back?"

He stayed silent for a moment, causing my heart to beat faster with each second, but his mouth did eventually part again. 

"Nothing that bad. He threw some things around, but that was it."

"Well are you ok?"

"I'm fine Pat."

Maybe he found it annoying, with the questions and all. I'm being really annoying right now, and he's probably already thinking of ways to get rid of me. I mean -

"Thank's for asking though, Trick."

I look up at him, and he smiles, a genuine smile. He leans down, and we share a brief, but loving kiss on the lips. 

We sit down at a bench in the more secluded part of the school. We were an hour early, so no one was really here yet. 

"Um Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we?"

I look down at my fingers, twisting, and messing with them, dreading the long explanation he would give to me about how it's kind of complicated, and he doesn't really know yet, and all these different excuses I didn't want to hear.

"I thought you already knew Trick, but do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

I look up, a smile on my face, and nod my head. So he thought we were already a thing. I inwardly explode at the thought of that. 

He chuckles, and kisses me one more time on the cheek. 

"I have to go to the music room to make up some stuff. I'll see you later ok?"

He walks off, leaving me to the silence of the almost empty school. I was about to put in my headphones when someone rips them out of my hands. 

"So the little fag is really a fag.", Mark says. 

Fuck. I knew this was going to happen. This is exactly why I didn't want to do anything while we were at school.

I stand up, ready to run, but Mark pushes me back into the bench. He punches me in the face, and pulls me up, throwing me onto the ground. 

"Where's your little boyfriend. Maybe I should go beat him up. It'll be a nice change of scenery."

My heart beat picks up. I can't let Pete go threw that. It's already happening at his house, and now he has to get beat up at school? 

"No please! I won't say anything. You can beat me up all you want, just don't hurt him.", I plead, tears threatening to fall down my face with each kick to the stomach. 

"That's just what I wanted to hear. Meet me here after school, fag.", he says, spitting on me as he walks away. 

I try push myself up, letting out a cry of pain. All that matters to me, is that Pete is okay, and not getting hurt anymore then he needs to. 

I limp inside the school, directing myself to the restrooms. I only want Pete right now, but I can't let him see me like this,or he'll know it was Mark, and even though Pete was a lot stronger than me, there was no way he would win against him. 

I look at my bloody face in the mirror. Luckily, there wasn't any visible bruises yet, so that was good, but my stomach wasn't in the same condition. The blood was starting to seep through my shirt. I hurriedly picked up my pace on cleaning. The blood was going to leave a stain, but it wasn't that visible through my black t shirt. 

I slowly open the bathroom door, limping over to my locker to retrieve my books. 

"Hey! Patrick!"

I turn around and see Pete. Putting on my best "I didn't just get beaten to pulp", kinda look, I smiled and waved back. 

As soon as he stopped in front of me, his smile faltered, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?", I ask in an innocent tone. 

"Did Mark do this?", he asks, pointing to my face.

"No. When I was walking inside, I tripped over my feet, and the ground scraped my face."

He looked hesitant at first, but shrugged it off. I let out a sigh of relief. 

"Ok. Well, class will start soon, so I'm going to head off. I'll see you during third period."

He leans in for a kiss, but I turn my head away. I can see his face fall, but he just sighs and walks off. 

Can someone please tell me what's wrong with being gay? I just want to be able to show affection to my boyfriend in public without having to be scared or shameful. It's not like I'm having mouth sex with him, like a lot of the other couples here.

I kick the lockers in anger, causing a few lingering eyes to fall on me. Annoyed, I walk off to home room, not bothering to grab my things. 

*

"Do you want to do something after school?", Pete asks me. 

I look at the clock, dreading the last few minutes of safety with Pete I had before I had to go meet Mark. 

"I have some extra work to do, and this project for English. It's crazy how much we have to do."

"Oh. I have the same English teacher as you. Our class didn't get any project."

"It's, um, for extra credit."

I put on a smile, and he shakes his head, chuckling, oblivious to what was actually going to happen. 

"Ok then.", he says, turning back to his worksheet. I shake my leg, and viciously tap my finger on the table, still staring at the clock until someone finally pulls me out of my trance by tapping me on the shoulder. 

"Pat? The bell already rang."

I look at the clock, actually paying attention this time and see that it has, in fact, been five minutes since the bell rang. I looked around the class room to find that we were the only ones left in the room. Even the teacher was gone. How had I fail to realize this? 

Remembering the meet I had after school, I jumped up, packing my things as fast as I can, getting a weird look from Pete. 

"Ugh, you can head off Pete. I have to stop by the English class and ask the teacher some things. I'll, um, call you later."

"Well, ugh, ok. Bye Trick.", he says, scratching the back of his neck and slowly walking towards the door.

He turns around one last time and gives me a wave before walking away. I let out a sigh, and plop back down on the chair. I could just tell Pete I change my mind about the extra credit thing, and ask him to take me home. I would still have time to catch up to him. 

I shake my head. Avoiding this would only make everything worse, and besides, I wasn't going to let Pete get hurt over something like this. Something he can't control. 

I grab my things, and start the walk outside, taking my time. 

"Hey fag! I was thinking you wouldn't show up. I saw your little boy friend walking out, and I was going to just go after him, but I decided to give you a chance."

Before I could say anything, he kicks my legs, making me fall to the ground. No one would see us here unless they walked up a few feet away, but no one was going to, because this place was practically deserted. It literally took everything for Mark to wonder to this part of this school, this morning, while Pete and I were kissing. 

He picks me up by the collar of my shirt, and throws me against the bench, making me hit the metal bar with my head. Everything goes a little blurry, but I could still make out his fist, which was coming towards my face. I couldn't feel the punch, but I did taste the blood dripping into my mouth. He kicked me in the stomach probably over a hundred times, and this lasted until the sky was getting dark. 

By now, everything, in my eyes, were almost pitch black. I could barely make out his face in front of mine. 

"I can't understand how anyone could love a fat ass pussy like you.", he says, kicking me one last time in the face. 

He walks off, and I can here his car starting up, and driving away. I'm still on the floor, but I turn around so that my face is facing the almost black sky. This is going to be the death of me. I'm probably going to drown in my own blood. 

I would have laid there if it weren't for the buzzing of my phone. The tenth buzz. Just to make it clear. I slowly push myself up to a sitting position, my eyes watering in pain. I barely dragged myself towards my back pack. I fished around, before finally making contact with the cool glass. I pull it out, seeing that school had ended five hours ago, and I had gotten 8 text messages, and two calls from Pete. 

I pull up my contacts, and tap on his name. The ringing hurts my head, and makes me want to throw my phone at the wall, but I stick it threw. 

"Patrick? Where are you?", he asks immediately, an edge in his tone. 

I put on the best voice I can do, and reply with, "I'm at home, doing my project."

"No you're not. I've been outside your house for the past three hours. Now where are you. Seriously."

I groan. Why did he have to be so persistent?

"I'm, um, at school.", I finally say. 

"I'm coming right now.", he says, and hangs up before I have the chance to protest. 

I could get up right now, and start walking. I would have enough time to get at least a few blocks away from the school. But that thought soon leaves my head when pain shoots through my leg as I try to push myself up. 

All I can do now is just sit here, until Pete comes, and think about how I can't do anything right, even when Pete is on the line. A few tears fall down my face, and I wipe it away as I see headlights getting closer.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh my god! Patrick. What happened?", Pete shouts, running over to me. 

I could here the pain in his voice, and it was hurting me more then the the beating. I couldn't look at him in the eyes. I couldn't keep him safe. Everything I do always gets fucked up like this. 

"Trick? C'mon, we need to get you back to your house."

He reached under my arms and pulled me up, causing me to cry out in agony. I leaned on him while he picked up my backpack, and just like the first day, he was dragging me, except, instead of the restroom, he was dragging me back home. 

I look up at his face. It was filled with concentration, and he looked a little mad too. I would understand why. I lied to him. 

"I'm sorry Pete.", I mumbled. 

He immediately stopped, almost making me fall. 

"What are you sorry about?"

"I just, I mean, I lied to you." 

"About what?" 

"About what I was doing tonight."

"Well what was actually going to happen tonight?"

I could see the hurt in his eyes, and it was scaring me. 

"I- Pete, I can't talk like this. My legs are hurting like crazy."

I wasn't trying to stall. My legs were really killing me, but I guess the upside to it was I could avoid the conversation just a little bit longer. 

As if everything we had just said left his mind, he went back to helping me to his car. I opened the door, and he gently put me inside, and buckled the seat belt, placing the bag on my lap. 

He started the car, and we were off in silence. The entire car trip, which was only about ten minutes, felt like forever with the lack of noise. I thanked the lord when we finally stopped in front of my house. 

Neither one of us moving, I finally decided to open my mouth. 

"Mark saw us this morning.", I said quietly. 

"I knew that's where you got the scrape from, this morning."

"He threatened to hurt you if I tried to stop him, so I ...well I didn't try to stop him."

He let out a breathe and turned toward me, "Patrick, why did you let him do that?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt. You already get enough of it at home.", I said, whispering the end. 

"And so you thought the best idea is just to let him beat you to death?", he said, raising his voice. 

"Well I'm not dead."

"That's not the point Trick! If this keeps happening this badly, you're going to, and I don't want to be having to cry over your still body in the hospital."

I stay silent, not really knowing how to respond. 

"Look at me Patrick."

I lift my eyes up to his, and I was hit with all the emotions it held.

"There's nothing he can do to me that will hurt me more then watching him hurt you."

We stay still and silent for a few seconds before he leans over and kisses me on the lips. I don't think anyone has ever made me feel this way before, and it was scaring me how much I cared about him.

"Promise me that next time he threatens you, you'll tell me, even if it means that I will get hurt."

I stay silent for a long time.

Pete POV

"I love you Pete.", he says.

And that was enough for me to understand that, that was his promise to me. I stroke his cheek with my hand, running my thumb over the gashes on his face.

"I love you too Trick."

He smiles, and so do I.

"But I think we should get inside, it's starting to get really cold."

I chuckled, getting out, and running over to his side to help him out. 

"Trick, stop moving."

He kept fidgeting and flinching every time I wash or touch a bruise or cut. I'm sure it was hurting, but I just need him to sit still for two seconds. 

"Give me your hand Trick."

"Why?"

"Just give it to me."

He slowly reaches out, and I grab it with my free hand, "Just squeeze my hand every time you feel like moving. Ok?"

I go back to dabbing at the cuts, and every few seconds I would get a tug on my hand, but I just give back a reassuring squeeze. 

I finish after another few minutes, and help him clean up the swabs and paper towels. 

"Pete?"

"Yeah?", I say, without taking my eyes off of what I was cleaning. 

"Can you stay here tonight."

I gently turn off the sink and turn around, facing him. He looked so adorable standing there, without a shirt on. He drops his gaze, pointing at something behind me.

"Can you hand me my shirt?"

I nod, turn around, and grab the shirt, tossing it to him.

"And to answer your question, yeah."

He smiles, and turns around to walk back to his bedroom. I clean the rest of the things up, and walk back to the bedroom myself. 

He was already asleep by the time I got in. I snaked my hands around his waist, and gently pulled him into my chest. He lout out sound, what I assume was a cry of pain.

"Trick?"

"Mhm?", he mumbles out. 

"You're ok right?"

I feel his head moving on my arm, and I sigh, kissing him on the back of his head, and turn around to turn off the light.


	6. Chapter 6

I look in the mirror, and at myself. I haven't really looked at myself for a while. My hair was a nest on top on top of my head, and everything about me just looked like shit.

What did Pete see in me? I wasn't good looking. I wasn't smart. I didn't have anything special. He could be with any girl or guy in the entire school, yet he chose me? 

I replay the words that Mark said before leaving me to bleed at school. "Fat ass" kept screaming itself in my head. 

"Stop it. Stop.", I beg, pulling at my hair. 

"Trick? Are you ok?", Pete asks, knocking on the door. 

"Yeah.", I reply, turning on the faucet like I was just finished using the toilet. 

I opened the door, almost walking into Pete, who was standing right outside the door. He had been staying with me for the past week. It was Friday night, and he had to go back to his house tomorrow, so today would be our last night together until he could leave again. 

"Do you have to go back tomorrow?", I ask, putting on my best puppy dog eyes. 

He smiles, dropping the concerned look he had on his face. 

"Yeah. But we still have tonight.", he said, ruffling the top of my hair. 

"I ordered us some pizza by the way.", he said, plopping down on the couch. 

Pizza. That would just be extra weight I didn't need. 

"Oh? I'm not really hungry."

He raised his eyebrows, turning his attention away from the tv. 

"You didn't eat any breakfast or lunch. Are you sick?"

"No. I guess I just don't have much of an appetite today. That's it.", I reply, scratching the back of my neck. 

"Um, ok.", he says, turning back to the screen.

I let out a breath, glad that he didn't push the subject farther. I walk over and sit down next to Pete, but making sure there was enough space between us. 

"Are you afraid I'm going to bite. Come here.", he says, patting the space between us. 

I hesitantly move over. I don't know what got into me, but all of a sudden, I'm very cautious of my body. Pete, not noticing anything wrong, or maybe he did, but chose to ignore it, set his arm around me, pulling me even closer to him. 

The door bell suddenly rang through the house, making both Pete and me jump. He stands up, walking to the front to grab the pizza, and moments later, return with the box. 

I could smell the cheese, and my stomach started to growl, luckily, he didn't hear. 

"Are you sure you don't want any?", he asks, lifting up a slice. 

I nod, appearing to be not paying attention. He turns back to the tv, and that's how we stay for the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

I sigh as I sit down in my chair. Pete came late today, so I didn't get to see much of him. I could see that there was a new bruise on his face though, and my heart ached for him. He didn't question me not eating on Friday, and I haven't eaten much since then, an apple on Saturday, and that was it. My stomach was hurting, but I knew that it meant whatever I was doing was working. 

Was all of this worth it? Skipping the meals, putting myself through this? Yes. Yes it was. Then Pete won't have to be ashamed to have me as a boyfriend. 

*

"Hey Trick!", Pete said, walking over to me.

We were on our way to the last period of the day. My back pack was probably about to explode with all the home work and text books we were given today. 

"Oh. Hey Pete. Where were you last period?"

He shrugged, plopping down at his seat, all the way in the back. 

"I had to go to the music room to help out with some things."

I nod, sitting down myself. It felt like the class was never going to end, but I finally heard the signaling of the end of hell, for at least now. 

I slowly put my things away, too tired to go any faster. Today was officially the fourth day I hadn't eaten, and my body was dying. I can't say I didn't like the aching feeling in my stomach though, it reminded me that I was going to loose weight. I sigh, slipping the straps onto my shoulder, making me want to topple over. 

"You ok Trick? You don't look so good.", Pete asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. 

"Yeah, just really tired.", I reply, as we walk out of the front doors. 

"Are you sure, you look a little...sick."

"I'm fine.", I said back, a little harder then I meant to sound. 

I felt his hand on my arm, and I was soon turned around, his eyes, throwing daggers at me. 

"Patrick, tell me what's wrong. You've been acting weird since Friday. Is everything ok with you and, you know...Mark? Has he said anything to you?"

I shouldn't act like this towards him. He was just worried. I looked up, really taking in his face for the first time today, and the first thing I saw was the bruise he had. I had forgotten about it. I was too caught up in my own little world to ask if my boyfriend, with an abusive dad, was okay. 

I reached up, grazing the bruise near his eyes, "What happened?"

He let go on my arm, blushing a little as he dropped my gaze, "Nothing. It's fine. It was an accident."

I let my hand drop. Why was he lying to me? I already know about his dad. I guess I'm kind of a hypocrite though. I won't tell him why I'm acting so weird, yet I expect him to tell me everything. 

"No really Trick, he didn't do anything. It wasn't an accident, but he wasn't the one to cause it. Why don't we go get something to eat or something, and I'll tell you what happened.", he said, pulling on my arm towards his car. 

My heart dropped. I've been trying too hard to stop now. But then again, I haven't eaten anything in four days. If I don't at least eat something small, something serious was going to happen. If I get sent to a hospital or something, then I really won't be able to hide it. 

I sigh, letting him drag me to the car. 

He took me to a sandwich place, and ordered us both the chef's special. I gulped as I saw all the food around me. 

"So what happened?", I ask, trying to distract myself. 

"I got in a fight with some guys that were picking on this kid. It wasn't anything big."

"What?! What were they doing?", I ask, worried that there was more bruises he was hiding. 

He did say guys, implying that he got beat up by more the one. 

"They were just making fun of him for being gay, and well,being in the situation we, ourselves, are in, I got angry, and yeah."

I didn't say anything after that, because there wasn't much for me to say. I only got about a few bites in before the food was feeling like a ton in my stomach. I frowned, staring at the piece of food, only paying attention to the meat that was sticking out. 

"Patrick!", I hear Pete shout. 

I look up to find an annoyed Pete staring at me. 

"What's wrong? Really. You've nearly touched your food, and you haven't made any full conversation with me today. Tell me whats wrong."

"I just don't feel good.", I reply, looking back down. 

It's not a lie. I did feel like crap. It just wasn't the full truth. I hated having to treat him like this, it wasn't on purpose, but it's hard for me to focus on other things when all I can hear is the sound of my empty stomach. 

"C'mon.", he said, tugging at the sleeve of my jacket. 

I hadne't realized that the tip was already on the table. I stand up, and follow him out. He suddenly stops, turns around, almost making me fall into him, but that didn't really matter since he pulled me into his embrace anyways, connecting our lips. 

"You can tell me anything, you know that right?", he finally says after pulling away. 

I blush and nod. This just made me feel more like shit, because I knew I couldn't bring myself to tell him what's really been on my mind. 

"I know this might be fast, but I love you Tick, I really do.", he says, connecting our lips once again. 

I wanted to say it back, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, knowing full well that he would think other wise if I told him. If I just keep this on a down low, until 'this' finally starts working, until then, I just won't say anything. 

As we head back to my house, I could tell he was a little upset I hadn't said it back. I sigh, and look out the window. 

I was about to close the door, but I turned back around, catching Pete off surprise.

"Can you stay tonight?", I ask, as Pete was about to put the car into reverse. 

His expression lightened, and he nodded eagerly, making me chuckle to myself.

As Pete snuggled up against me, I could feel his heart beet rising against my back, "Are you ok Pete?"

"Yeah, but I was just kinda wondering, where are your parents?", he finally lets out. 

I was expecting him to ask me this, but surprisingly, he waited till now to ask. It's not that I was trying to keep it away from him, but there wasn't really much to it except for the fact that my parents don't really like me, so they put me here by myself, occasionally dropping by to check on me, but that's like, four times a year. 

"Oh, they just...don't like me that much, so they leave me here by myself, sometimes coming to check on me, rarely though."

We stayed in silence for a while, before he spoke up again, "So, do you know where they live?"

"A few hours away."

"Oh. Does it, well...bother you?"

I shrug, "It did at first, but I guess I got use to it."

"Do you ever get lonely?"

Of course. It was always lonely. How does one stay in a house by themselves, with no friends what so ever, and not get lonely. 

I turn around, pushing myself as close as I can to him, and bury my head in his chest.

"Yeah, but I have you now."


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright class, don't forget to finish the assignment! Have a nice winter break!", the teacher says, shooing us out of class. 

I sigh in relief as I walk over to the door, where Pete is standing. Two weeks off for winter break, and I was going to take an advantage over that. I'll probably spend most of it with Pete, not doing anything, leaving all my work for the night before going back to school. 

Winter break was usually fun in elementary school, when you didn't have work on Christmas day. Now, being a senior and all, we were piled under home work. I probably won't have any time to do anything anyways, but then again, it's not like I have a family to visit, or go with on vacation. 

"So what do you want to do?", Pete asks, walking us to his car. 

I shrug, "We can just go to my house?"

He nods, "But um, I have to get some things from my house.". 

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. I hated seeing him leave me to go back to that place people call home, but if he didn't, his dad was going to definitely get him back for it. 

"I can go with you. Even if I just have to sit in the car.", I suggest, setting my hand on his lap.

He nods again, without saying anything. He wants me to be there, but he probably feels like it's a burden for me, which it's not. If it was, I would'nt have suggested it. 

We pull up to his house. He sighs, finally letting his hand drop. He laces his hands with mine, and I give him a reassuring squeeze. 

"I'll be back in a sec."

I watch his back as he disappears into the house, sighing heavily with him. 

*

"Hey Patrick?", Pete asks, tapping my shoulder lightly. 

We were snuggling on the couch, watching some winter movie marathon on tv. I was on the verge of falling asleep before he tapped me.

"Mhm?"

"So... an old friend of mine is coming to visit his family this week, and his boyrfriend's coming too, and I wanted to know if you were cool with meeting up with them? He wanted to meet for dinner or something of the sort." 

That dreaded word, "dinner". I have been doing well enough these past few weeks. I've been keeping track and I've already lost thirty pounds. It's not healthy to loose so much weight so fast, but who said this thing of mine was healthy anyways. 

Pete hasn't said anything, but I can tell he's noticing the sudden 'diet'. He's been pushing me to eat more when I have left overs (which is usually almost the entire plate), and is always keeping an eye on how much I eat. 

"Trick?"

I snap out of my thoughts, recalling his question from earlier.

"Oh yeah of course."

"I mean, you don't have to. I know you get nervous around other people.", he says, his fingers drawing circles on my shoulder.

"No. It's fine, really. What's his name?"

"Ryan. I use to go to school with him, but then I moved to Chicago. His boyfriends name started with a b or something I think."

"Ok. When?"

"Well, they're getting here tomorrow, and he wanted me to pick him up at the airport."

"Why doesn't he ask his family?"

"He kinda hates them because they don't really accept him being gay, so he's staying at a hotel, and was wondering if I could take them there. You should come with me."

"Oh. Um sure."

"Great. We should go to bed, I can tell you're tired."

I nod, letting him drag me up the stairs. He presses his chest against my back, and wraps his arms around my waist. I sigh in content, and drift off to sleep in seconds. 

*

"Hey Ryan! Over here!", Pete shouts, waving his arms.

I see a skinny kid walking out, with even more eye liner then Pete. Is that even possible? Then, I see a familiar face behind him. 

Brendon. 

My face brightens when I see his face. He didn't tell me he was coming. Wait. Could this be Ryan's boyfriend? I see them grasp their hands, and Ryan's other hand waving to Pete, who is running up to them, me following. 

"Jesus Bren! Were you going to tell me you were coming?", I say, startling Pete.

"I was going to surprise you Pat!" he says, colliding in a huge hug, blocking the other people. 

*

I help Brendon lug his bag up the stairs. We decided that it would be cheaper and easier for everyone if the pair just stayed at my house. Pete suggested the idea, and I was happy to oblige. It's not like I didn't have enough room anyways.

"I'm really glad to see you man!", he says for the hundred time. 

I laugh, nodding in agreement. Ryan and Pete was unloading the rest of the car, while Brendon and I was setting up the rooms. 

It was a four bed room house, three upstairs, one down stairs. Brendon said that they would just share the bed, so we only had to set up one. I gave them the master bedroom, with the connected bathroom, which surprisingly, I never moved into. It was surprising because it was the biggest room in the house. I guess I just didn't want to go inside, considering my parents use to sleep in there, and it would just be unsettling for me to do the same.

Brendon sighs, finally finished with the work, and sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. 

"So how's your parents been?", he asks. 

Brendon knew about my parents moving away, after they found out that I swing the other way, and he would always let me stay over at his house. 

I shrug, "Fine I guess. They haven't changed their minds or anything, and it's too late to try to change it now."

"Ok. Well, how has school been?", he asks, a little hesitantly. 

When our communications were still heavy (we talked all the time for months after the move), I use to answer his skype calls with bruises and cuts all over my face from getting beat up. 

I give him the look, and he chuckles lightly, "Ok. Bad question."

"GUYS! WE ORDERED PIZZA!", Pete shouts. 

Hm. Maybe, just maybe, if I stare and concentrate hard enough, the pizza will just disappear off this plate. 

I look back to find that the slice was still there. I groan, burrowing my face into the pillow next to me. 

"You ok?", Pete asks, not taking his eyes off of the screen. 

We were watching some movie, so luckily for me, no one was paying attention as to why I was groaning. 

"Mhm", I mumble into the pillow. 

If I stand up now and throw away the plate, they'll be too distracted to notice, and if they asked, I'll just tell them I did eat, it's not like they were paying attention or anything. 

I stand up, taking the plate, and walk off towards the kitchen. On the way there, Brendon's drifting eyes meet mine, and I can see his brow raise. I blush and pick up my pace, dumping the plate in the trash, and almost sprinting back to the couch. 

I plop down, and before I could get comfortable, Pete's arm was around my waist, and he was pulling me into his side. His eyes leave the tv screen for a few seconds to meet mine, giving me a squeeze on my arm. 

I look up, but was a little startled at what I saw. He was smiling, but his eyes weren't showing the same thing. He couldn't have noticed, could he? No. He couldn't. He hadn't looked at me closely once since the movie started. 

I pretend not to notice, and we both turn back to the screen at the same time. I let my head fall to his shoulder. I hadn't been watching the movie, and it was too late to start now, so I decided to close my eyes, and let myself drift off to sleep.

I open my eyes, noticing instantly that I wasn't on the couch anymore, but instead, in my own room. Pete was nuzzled next to mee, his face pressed against my arm. I look down, chuckling slightly, and lift up my arm to wrap around his thin body. 

His eyes opened as my arms settled itself around him. He rubbed his eyes that were still filled with sleep, "What time is it?"

His voice was deep, making it ten times sexier. I turn my head to look at the clock sitting on the night stand. 

"It's, ugh, 3:45"

He groaned, sitting up, "Why are you up this early?"

"Um, cause my arm was hurting from a certain someone pressing up against it."

He falls back into me, snuggling up again to a comfortable position, "Hey, you did the same to me when we were watching the movie."

I smile, but suddenly remember the look on his face. 

"Hey, Pete?"

"Mm?"

"I ugh, was wondering, earlier today, during the movie...", I trail off, not exactly sure how to put the question into words.

"Yeah?"

"Never mind, it's not important. I'll tell you tomorrow.", I say, turning away from him. 

Hopefully he'll agree, but forget about the whole thing tomorrow.

Well. It is tomorrow, but I mean, like, later tomorrow. 

He sighs, turning me around to face him, "What's wrong Patrick?"

"Are you mad at me, or you know, upset with me?", I finally let out. 

His eyes finally awaken, filled with alertness. He just stares at me, no words coming out of his gaping mouth. 

Of course he is. I wait, wanting him to say something, but the longer I wait, the more I'm sure our relationship was coming to an end. 

Tears are on the verge of release, and I quickly get out of bed, walking out of the room. This is going to hurt too much.


	9. Chapter 9

Pete's POV

Shit. I should have said something. Patrick probably thinks that I'm mad at him, which I'm not, well at least I'm not mad about what I think he thinks I'm thinking about. 

I've been noticing his lack of energy, and at first, I thought it was maybe the stress of college and work, which is what he told me at first, and I believed him. I mean, college applications were around the corner, and it made sense. 

Or

I'm just a really bad boyfriend who couldn't tell that his boyfriend was practically starving himself. My heart hurt just from thinking of it. Patrick was beautiful, and I couldn't believe he would think any other wise. He wasn't even big to begin with. What? Weighing roughly around 130? 

I shake my head. Wait fuck. I'm still sitting in here, on the bed, and not out there, telling him how much I love him, and how I'm here for him, and not mad. 

I push myself up, almost falling down from the tangled mess of blankets. 

"Patrick? Patrick wait!"

I run down the stairs and see that the door is open. I run out, noticing his really, really, (like so thin, how could I have not noticed before), frame, sitting on the curb. 

I run over, sitting down next to him, not leaving any space in between. I can't have him thinking that I'm grossed out. 

I look down at his shaking body as another wave of sobs and tears come. It broke every part of me seeing him like this. 

"Patrick?", I ask, putting my arm around his shoulder. 

He leans in, and I wrap my other arm around him, his head then laying on my chest, wetting my shirt. 

"I-I'm sorry.", he finally sobs out. 

"What? No. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry it took me this long to come out after you.", I say. 

He doesn't say anything, and neither do I. The only noises we hear are the quiet chirps of crickets, and the pain filled sobs of the boy next to me. 

What am I suppose to say at a time like this? Do I say that he is beautiful, and doesn't have to do this to himself? Will he even believe me? Well, I guess I'm going to have to make him believe him. 

"Patrick. Patrick look at me.", I say, pushing his shoulder up so our eyes meet. 

And I shouldn't be mesmerized by his teary eyes, but I am. The dim light of the dark night, and the slight glaze over his eyes made me fall in love with him all over again. God. How can he ever think he wasn't good enough?

"I'm not mad at you, or disgusted, or love you any less then I do. You're amazing to me, no matter what the scale says, and I'll be here for you, because I'm not going anywhere. I love you, and I'm not going to watch you do this to yourself."

His eyes lighten, and so does his body, which had been rigid since I came out here. I quickly take off my jacket that I had fallen asleep in, and slide it over his small shoulders. It is winter in Chicago right now, and it was fucking freezing, but right now, all I care about is Patrick. 

"I-I...", he stumbles, but closes his mouth after not being able to form any coherent words. 

We sit in silence for a little longer before I decided to continue, "When was the last time you ate?"

He sighs, mumbling, "A while."

"C'mon.", I say, standing up, tugging him up as well. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to make you some food, but I'm sure you don't want that, and you're probably just as tired as I am, so we're going to save this for when we actually can think straight."

He nods, following me.

"But you are going to tell me everything, ok?"

He sighs, but nods in agreement. 

We trudge heavily up stairs, and I collapse onto the bed. He stares at the bed, and hesitantly gets in. I wrap my arms around him and tug him closer then we have ever been. I want him to know I Iove every part of him. 

I sigh, realizing that I'm not going to get any sleep. My body was aching for sleep, but my brain just doesn't want to. Patrick shifts, turning towards me. 

"Couldn't sleep either?", I mumble into the top of his head, his hair tickling my nose. 

I feel the movement of his head nodding, "But I'm so tired."

I pick myself up slightly, and peer over his body, looking at the clock that read 6:15.

"Do you think you'll fall asleep anytime soon?"

He shakes his head. 

"Ok. I have somewhere to take you then.", I say, getting off the bed, and switching my sweats with jeans, not bothering to mess with my shirt. 

He groans, but gets up too, following my exact actions. He awkwardly stands next to the door as I slip on my shoes. Great. Now it's going to be awkward between us. 

I smile at him as I walk over, lacing our hands together, "I love you."

I quickly walk out, not wanting to listen to the awkward silence of his response. We get half way to my car, but Patrick suddenly pulls me around. 

His face looks so worried, but after standing there for ages, his lips finally turn up a little. 

"I-I, um, love you too Pete.", he says, turning his gaze to the floor after the confession. 

If my lips could fall off from smiling, well, Patrick would probably not get any action for a while. 

His cheeks turn a shade of red, making me chuckle. I lean down, kissing his cheek softly, then continue my way to the car. 

*

I could see his face fall as I pull up to the diner, but he quickly covered up with a smile that didn't reach the rest of his face. 

"I use to come here when I was little with my mom.", I said, turning off the car. 

I walk over to his side, and open the door.

"Um, thanks.", he whispers, cracking a little. 

I sigh, but I'm sure he didn't hear me. We walk inside, and sit down at a booth that had a window. A middle aged women walks over with a note pad. 

"What can I help you with guys?", she ask cheerfully. 

The nice lady sets the two plates down in front of us. I glance up at Patrick, and see the look of disgust on his face. 

'C'mon Patrick. Just a little? Please.", I say, lacing our hands under the table. 

He looks up at me, an unsure face on, but I start tracing circles on his hand with my thumb, and he finally sighs in defeat, picking up his fork with the other hand. 

I'm finished with my plate of food in thirty minutes, but Patrick has barely finished half of it. I gently nudge him under the table, catching his attention. His glossy eyes look up to me, making me want to just hold him and tell him how much I love him.

"You did great Trick.", I say with a genuine smile. 

I know this was going to be hard, and I wasn't expecting him to eat so much all at once. He gently smiles, but gets up, letting our hands drop. I raise my eyebrows, but he just nods to the bathroom. 

I look down at my phones, realizing that it's been twenty minutes. Did he fall down the toilet or something?

I stand up, heading towards the bathroom, but just as I was about to open the door, it yanks open from the other side, and Patrick walks right into me. 

"Oh sorry. I wasn't looking.", he mumbles, keeping his head low. 

"It's fine Trick, it's just me.", I say. 

Realizing who he had bumped into, his head pops up, "What took you so long?"

"Oh, I ugh, I got a syrup on my shirt, and I was trying to get it out."

"Ok. Well we should get going. I have somewhere else to take you."


	10. Chapter 10

"So when did this start?", he finally asked. 

I sigh, forking around the eggs on my plate, "I don't know. It's been a couple of weeks. Maybe a little bit more then a month now."

He doesn't say anything more. I guess he is taking this pretty well. I thought he would be utterly disgusted, and would never want to talk to me again. 

"You know I want you to stop, right?"

I nod, not looking up from my plate. 

"And you know I'm going to be here for you, right?"

I don't do anything because, did I know that? He could just easily say that to make me trust him, and then later leave me behind. 

No. He isn't that low. If he didn't want me now, he wouldn't pretend like he did. Pete's many things, but definitely not shallow. 

He grasps my hand under the table, and squeezes it, "Patrick, I'm going to be here for you. I promise."

I smile, and slowly put the eggs in my mouth. 

I walk into the bathroom, opening the door shakily. Did I really want to do this? I've read about how it completely ruins your body, not that starving myself didn't do that already. 

I open one of the stalls, gulping heavily, and slowly get down on the floor, making sure that no one was in the other stalls. The restroom was pretty clean, so I got lucky there I guess. 

I put my finger down my throat, and after a few short gasps, the vile substance fills my mouth, and falls into the bowl. I groan a little at the ache in my stomach, but continue to do it until I was just dry heaving. 

If Pete knew, he would kill me, and I wanted to kill myself for lying to him. I said I was going to get better, I promised, and yet here I am, doing something worse then just starving myself. 

I cup my hands under the faucet, forming a small pool in them, and put it in my mouth. I spit it out, and wet my hands again, putting the water over my face. 

My hands grip the cold sink, and I look at myself in the mirror. There were bags under my eyes, and a few bruises from Mark the week before, and my face was a little more hallow.

I've also read about how people, when they look in the mirror, don't see the actual weight that they are, or are loosing, but I can see mine. I've noticed how my, once tight, shirts hang off my body. 

I tear my eyes away, sure that if I kept staring at the mess in the mirror, I was going to start puking again. I sigh again before opening the door and walking out.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey, sorry that Pete couldn't be here to see you guys off. I know he really wanted to, but he had some things to take care of.", I say, handing Brendon the last of the bags. 

"It's fine, there's all ways next year."

I walk Brendon and Ryan over to the door. Today was the last day they were here, and we were currently at the airport. 

"Hey, you better send me the album."

"Of course, you'll be the first to hear it.", he says, chuckling. 

Brendon and I collide with a huge hug, I give Ryan a shake of the hand, and they were off. It felt really good to see Brendon again, I mean, he was my best friend, I guess he still is, and Ryan was cool too. 

I smile, and get back into the car, driving myself home.

Pete really wanted to be here tonight, but his mother told him he had to get home because his dad was demanding to see him.

I sigh, thinking about how he told me he was mad at something, and even though he didn't say it, we both new that he was probably going to get it. 

Life is so unfair sometimes. Why did Pete have to get born into a family that abuses him, and why did I have to get born into a family that hates, and ignores me?

I settle myself in bed, forcing myself to sleep instead of having to think about what might be happening to Pete. 

*

I pick at the pieces of grass, as I mouth along to some song that was playing on my phone. It was already lunch time, and Pete still hadn't shown up 

I guess he could be sick, or maybe just over slept and didn't feel like coming to school, but I knew all that stuff was bullshit, just trying to calm my nerves down. I couldn't take it, the anxiety was gnawing at me, and I just really wanted to see Pete, just to make sure he was okay. 

I grabbed my back pack, and run off towards his house. It wasn't that hard ditching, considering the fact that I was already outside on the field. The hard part was trying to find myself back at his house. I've only been there once, and it was dark, and he was driving. I could walk to my house first, and then start from there. 

I was just about to turn around as I got to the street my house was on, when I saw the figure sitting there, on my front porch. I couldn't see who it was from how far away I was, but he looked as if he was sleeping. 

I started at a slow walk, seeing that the person was covered in blood, but it soon turned into a full on sprint as I finally saw that the person who was covered in blood and passed out was in fact, Pete. In a matter of seconds, I was next to him, and shaking his shoulders. 

"Pete! Oh my god Pete!"

His eyes fluttered open, a dazed look in them. 

"Patrick, I'm fine. Stop shaking me, you're going to have a heart attack.", he says chuckling. 

He's acting like he's not covered in blood and looked like he just went through some horror movie scene. 

"Of course I'm going to have a heart attack!", I scream. 

"Patrick I'm fine, really."

"No you're not.", I whined, helping him up. 

I used one hand to open the door, and slide of my back pack, while the other was still around Pete, helping him stand. Alright my ass, he couldn't even stand straight. 

We walk to the bathroom, and I'm almost on the verge of tears, when he is the one that's all bloody and bruised. 

I reach for his shirt, about to take it off and examine the damage when his hand grabbed my wrist, stopping me. 

"I'd rather do it myself, I don't want you seeing it...it's not very pretty."

I sigh, but nod, and let him close the door, shutting me out. It's not like he hasn't seen me beat up. Whatever though, I know he did it for my sake though, so I didn't protest. 

I walk into my room, digging out a pair of sweat pants and t shirt he usually wore when he stayed over. Maybe I should tell him to just leave some of his clothes here from now on. No doubt his dad did this to him. God. How could a parent abuse their own flesh and blood like that?

The door suddenly swings open, snapping me awake from my thoughts. I jump, running over to his side to help him to the bed. 

"Just stay here in bed. I'm going to go run to the store down the street and get some pain killers and food."

"I'm fine Trick. It's getting late. You don't have you to go out of your way to get them.", he says, but I only give him a reassuring smile. 

I pull the blankets up around him, and make sure that he is comfortable before I head out. As I turn around to walk away, his hands wrap around my wrist. I turn around, giving him a questioning look.

"I just...I love you Trick."

I smile, and lean down, kissing him on the for head, "I love you too."

*

I watch the automatic door slowly slide open, letting in the freezing air. The sun was already setting, but I don't remember it being that late. I pull out my phone, reading the time. 

7:26

Crap. I must have spent more time fussing over Pete then I thought I had. The store was about a ten minute walk from my house, but I'm sure if I walk faster, or run, I could cut it to five minutes. 

I was about to start my light jog when someone bumps into me, making me drop my phone. Some people really need to watch where they are going, I mean c'mon, I was standing to the side, near the wall, how do you walk into someone there. 

"Sorr-", the guys mutters out. 

I turn around and I'm sure my skin completely pales. Mark was staring right at me. I start to back up a little, but my back soon hits the wall. Seriously, how does someone walk into another here. 

"Oh hey, it's the little fag. Did you miss me? (complete, and total sherlock reference)"

"I would love to chat Mark, but I kinda have to go.", I mutter out, in attempt to wiggle my way out of his path. 

He slams my shoulder back into the wall, making me whimper in fear. A guy walks pass, giving Mark a questioning glare. I yelp out in pain as he grabs my wrist, tugging me away with such a force, it felt like he tore out my entire arm. 

Mark pushes me to the dirty, wet ground behind the store, making me loose hold of the phone and bag. I hear him laugh, following with a kick to my body, and another, and another. When his foot draws back for the last time, I thought I got lucky, and that, that would be it, but he pulls me up by my shirt, his fists curling them up, and pushing it against my chest, causing more pain then you would think. 

"You and your fag boyfriend can go burn in hell.", he spits out before punching me repeatedly in the face. 

He slams me once more to the building, making my head collide with the concrete wall, before dropping me to the floor, and walking away, stomping on the bag as he leaves for good. 

I lay there for a few minutes before I hear a shouting coming from across the lot, "Hey! You can't be back here. What the fuck are you doing!"

I barely register the faint shouting, but decide to get up. Pete was waiting for me, and I don't want him getting worried, and having to come look for me. 

I breathe out heavily, and groan in pain, as I limp over to the torn up bag. I reached for the pain killers, that were just holding together, but decide to leave the rest of the bag. All the stuff was ruined anyways. I then quickly find my phone laying inches away, and pick that up before the guy who was shouting got closer. 

*

"Jesus Patrick! Where have you been? It's almost 9!", Pete shouts as soon as I walk through the door. 

Now I understand why he didn't want me shouting at him, and bombarding him with questions. It just made my head hurt even more. 

"What the fuck happened!", he asks quietly as he sees my face. 

I reach into my pocket, and empty it of its contents. 

"Here.", I say, handing over the pain killers.


	12. Chapter 12

"Patrick please? Just a little bit, and I promise you won't have to eat any more, ok?", he asked, wrapping a hand around my waist, and kissing me slightly on the cheek. 

Despite the fact that this was really upsetting me, he still managed to bring a smile to my face. He ordered Chinese food for us, but I was only able to manage about a quarter of the food. He wanted me to eat at least half, but it was just so hard. It really didn't matter if I did eat it though, since it wasn't going to be staying in my body for long. 

It made feel like absolute shit, and it was even worse cause I had to lie to Pete about it, but there was nothing I could do. It made my throat sore, and my skin rough, but it was worth it, everything was worth it. I haven't gained one pound back, in fact, I've been loosing them. I'm surprised Pete still hasn't noticed yet, but I'm not complaining.

I finally manage to get the last spoon of fried rice into my mouth. I look up to him, and he smiles back, kissing me on the lips.

"I love you.", he says against them.

And I want to say it back, but knowing what I'm going to be doing afterwards, I just can't bring myself to return it. 

*

We pull up to the parking lot of the school. It was still rather early, but there was enough people walking around so that I couldn't kiss Pete. Oh god how I wanted to. Did it really matter though? I mean, it's not like I don't get beat up already, will this little detail make anything worse? I'm sure I will get some weird glances, and maybe some more shoves when I walk down the hall, but it couldn't be much worse then now. 

"Pete?", I mutter, really hoping he wouldn't have heard it. 

"Yeah?"

Fuck.

"Um, I was just wondering, only if you're ready, but I was just wondering, you know if, we could, um...", I trail off, not really sure how to finish the sentence.

"Do you want to make us public?", he ask. 

I look down at my fiddling fingers, and slowly nod. 

"I would love to, but I'm just worried about you Trick, I mean, with Mark and the other guys..."

"I know, but how much worse can it be?'

"Well if you're really sure then yes, of course."

"But nothing to flashy, just more like, if I wanted to hold your hand, and if you wanted to hold mine, then we can, but I don't want to make it too obvious."

He smile, and pecks me on the cheeks, "Ok.", he mutters against my skin.

We walk out of the car, but tie our hands together as soon as we meet in front of the car. 

"Are you ready Patrick?", he asks, squeezing my hand lightly. 

"As ready as I'll ever be."

*

I throw my pencil down in frustration, to consumed in my thoughts to do the stupid math assignment. 

Pete had to go back to his house today, but he said he would be back before five. I look at the clock, groaning again when I see that it's already nine. 

It's clear that I'm not going to get any work done, so I stand up, slipping on my jacket, and walk out the door. The cold air left over from December makes a slight shiver run down my spine. I sigh, and turn towards the direction of his house. 

I've been standing outside of his house for about twenty minutes now, too scared to knock on it. God, I'm such a coward. My boyfriend could be dying in there right now, yet I'm too scared to just knock on the door. 

I breathe in and slowly knock on the hard wood. I hear some shuffling, and soon, the door opens to reveal a large man. 

"Can I help you?", he grunts.

"Um, yeah, I was wondering ugh..."

I quickly look behind the man to see if I could see Pete, and sure enough, he was clutching the table top, blood dripping down his face. His eyes grow as it meets mine. I signal over to the glass bottle on the floor, and just pray that he understands what I'm trying to say. 

"Yes?", the man says again, clearly aggravated. 

Stalling, I quickly come up with something about a fundraiser for school, while my eyes still quick glances at Pete. 

I look back up to the man, and the next thing I know, the glass bottle is smashed against his head, causing him to loose his balance and fall against the door. 

Pete quickly grabs my hand, and we both run over to his car. He quickly drives off. I turn around to see the man unconscious on the ground. Sighing in relief, I turn back around and look at Pete. 

As if sensing my next move, he says, "I'm fine."

I sigh, not wanting to push the subject further.


	13. Chapter 13

I'm currently walking home by myself. Pete had to stay after school today to help the music teacher with something, so he couldn't come with me. He offered to drive me home, but I don't mind walking, especially on a nice day like today. 

As I turn the corner, I catch someone walking behind me in the corner of my eye. He looked - familiar, but I couldn't place where I have seen him. I quickly pick up my pace, a little edgy. As I turn around corners and streets, it's clear that this guy is following me. 

Before I could start running, I was met with a harsh shove in the back, and the next thing I know, I can see my own blood on the ground. The guy pulls me up, and drags me away from the direction from my house. I start to panic, kicking, and twisting, but the guy's hand is over my mouth, and his arms are too tight around me for it to do much. 

I try to look at him more clearly, but his hoodie over his head makes it almost impossible from the angle I'm being held. 

He walks onto a street with no one, and pulls me into an alley, pushing me onto the ground. I'm finally able to turn around and see his face, but what I see makes my face fall more. 

It was Pete's dad. The guy who abuses him.

He pulls me up and slams me against the wall, making me grunt in pain. He whispers something into my ear, but I'm too distracted to decipher what he said. The next thing he does sends chills through my body, and I'm wishing he would just beat me up instead. 

His mouth is against my neck, biting at the skin, sending a completely different sensation then Pete, when he did it. Tears fall down my face, and I can hear him laughing at the site of my distress. He continues to suck on my neck while his hands go under my shirt, roaming up my body. I shutter from the rough contact his skin made with mine. 

He suddenly turn me around so I'm facing him, and slams his mouth against mine. All I can taste is alcohol and smoke, and it makes me gag. His hands mess with my hair, but he suddenly pulls it, making me cry out in pain. 

He pulls me away, unbuckling his pants. My heart drops. He pushes me onto the floor so that I'm on my knees. 

"Please. Please stop.", I sob out. 

He only laughs harder, and soon, he's inside of my mouth. I can't believe this is actually happening. This can not being happening. 

He soon pulls away, and pulls me back up, turning me around so that my back is facing him. He pulls down my pants, making me whimper in protest. 

He pushes in suddenly, making me scream in pain. He slaps me, making me shake even harder. This continues until the sun drops. He finally pulls out, dropping me onto the floor. l scramble to pull up my pants that were around my ankles, and frantically push myself away from him. 

He laughs, kicking me in the stomach a few times, but finally decided to leave when he saw a car drive by. 

That did not just happen. All these years, I've waited to do it with someone special, someone I love, only to be taken advantage of someone like him. 

Reality finally hits me, and I curl up into a ball, crying my eyes out. My phone buzzes from my back pack that had been thrown somewhere. I didn't want to answer it, but it was probably Pete, wondering where I was. 

I start to sob more when I think of him, and how he's going to think I'm disgusting. He probably won't even want to touch me anymore. 

The phone buzzes again, and I crawl over to the bag, whining in pain at my lower half. 

"Hello?", I say weakly. 

"Where are you?"

I turn around, finally seeing a street sign.

"Northview, I think."

"I'll be right over."


	14. Chapter 14

This is like what happened when Mark beat me up that time, except ten times worst. Pete would be here any minute, and I still hadn't thought of an excuse. Do I tell him? I know I should, but it's going to ruin everything. Just thinking about someones hand on my body was scaring me, even Pete's hands. 

And if I did tell him, he's going to think that I'm used, and disgusting, and probably won't even touch me anyways, regardless of what I want. 

My eyes start to sting again as a fresh set of tears start to fall. How could this happen? I've been jumping at the slightest bit of noise, fear rising in me when someone walks past. I quietly sob into my hands, waiting for the person that will either make or break me. 

"Patrick?", I hear him shout a few feet away, but I don't bother to move. 

I don't want to see him. I don't want to hear the endless questions of what I was doing, and what happened. I can't tell him. It's going to ruin everything, not that it's not already. But he just can't know. And it's probably going to kill him even more if he knows that it was his dad.

I bite my knuckles, trying to keep myself from screaming out in agony. Why did the world have to be so cruel?

I hear shoes scudding along the pavement frantically. The noise stops near me, making me draw further into the corner of the alley. 

"Patrick?", he barely whispers out. 

Tears start to fall harder now, and I think I mutter something out, but I'm not exactly sure, too busy focusing on the other things in my mind. 

The sound of shoes hitting pavement gets closer, but abruptly stops in front of me. I push myself as hard as I can against the wall, still not lifting my head up from my hands. 

His hands touches my arm, making me whimper. I look up, meeting his concerned eyes. 

"C'mon, let's get you back to the car.", he says, without questioning what he sees. 

He tries to help me up, but I shrug away, not in the right mind for anyone to be touching me yet. I hear him sigh, and the look of confusion breaks me. I want to tell him, I really do, but I just can't. He's going to hate me. Everything will be over. 

I slowly pull myself into the passenger seat, wincing as I sit down, still in pain. He doesn't say or do anything except drive us back home. 

The car ride was filled with nothing but the occasional whimper from me shifting in pain. 

*

I let the scorching hot water take its path down my body. I practically scrub off a layer of my skin, not wanting the touch of his hands lingering, but although it wasn't physically on my body anymore, it was still in my mind. 

I suddenly feel the rough, scratchy skin against mine, and I shutter, tears welling in my eyes again. I slowly slide down onto the floor of the shower, letting my tears blend in with the water. I couldn't breathe, and the hot steam wasn't helping it either. 

I reach up, turning the dial all the way to the opposite side, drenching myself in ice water. The darkness of the alley consumes me again, and all I can see are his crooked, yellow stained teeth showing through that evil smile of his. The entire night flashes back into my head. I try to scream out for help, but his hands cover my mouth, so I start banging on the wall, trying to make some form of distress call. Nothing seems to make his bitter laugh, and smoke filled kiss disappear. I don't want it. I can't take any of this anymore. I bang my head against the wall now, instead of my hands, trying to make myself forget the events, trying to escape from his clutch. 

Suddenly, the door opens, revealing Pete. I can't see his face, just a small blur from the tears, but who else would be here?

A sudden wave of horror washes over me as I realize that it could be him. No. It can't happen again. It will kill me. I start to bang my head harder, screaming in pain, trying to kill myself before he can, again.

"Patrick! Patrick, what are you doing?!?", he frantically shouts. 

The voice, it's not bitter, it's not harmful, it's Pete's. I finally look up, taking in his face. He quickly turns off the water as he realizes it is ice cold. 

"Jesus Trick! Are you trying to freeze yourself to death?"

He grabs a tower, wrapping it around my body as he helps me up. We stand here for a few seconds, just staring at each other, but I'm not taking anything in. He slowly reaches his hands up to my face, attempting to stroke my cheek, but I turn away. 

He sighs, hands me some clothes, and walks out of the bathroom, closing the door on the way out. 

After slipping on the soft cloth, I stare at myself in the mirror. There were new bruises littering my body. I look down at my wrists that were purple from his grasp. I look back at the mirror, and the next thing I know, I was over the toilet, throwing up every thing in my stomach, like every other day, except this time, I wasn't doing it on purpose.

I hadn't eaten anything for three days, so it was mostly me dry heaving, but my stomach still managed to find something for me cough up. 

Pete walks back into the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, gently stroking my back. I first winced, but I soon found myslef enjoying the touch, Pete's touch. 

Why am I doing this to him? He's not going to hurt me, and I know he won't. He may have been his dad, but Pete was nothing like him. Realizing this, I soon throw myself into him, making us almost fall over. His arms immediatly pull me in, holding me tight, not leaving any space between us. My body gladly welcoms the familiar, comforting touch, and I melt right into his embrace. 

"I'm sorry Pete, I was just a little edgy, I guess.", I mutter into his chest. 

He pulls me up, leading me to bed. He crawls in, pulling me with him. My instincts try to make me pull away, but I know what I want, and what I want is for him to hold me, and tell me how much he loves me. 

"I love you Trick.", he says, tangling our bodies together. 

I sit up, panting, and sweating from the nightmare. I squirm, only feeling his skin against mine. A sudden hand on my shoulder makes me flinch, and I push it and myself away, making me fall off the bed. 

"Patrick what happened? Did you have a nightmare?"

The voice soon registers, and I realize that I'm not on that street anymore, I'm in my room, with Pete, and he wasn't going to hurt me. 

I climb back into bed. His hand reaches up to my face, and gently brushes away the tears I hadn't realize had fallen. 

"Patrick..what happened to you today?"

I breathe out harshly. He had put off asking me, obviously as I favor to me, but I knew he was going to ask sooner or later, and I knew I was going to have to lie to him. 

"I just got beat up by gang.", I mutter out. 

"You've got beaten up by Mark before, and he's left more bruises then this. Tell me, what happened.", he says, stroking the side of my arm. 

"They just really scared me. They had a gun, and one was holding a knife. I've got beaten up before, worse than this, but I've never been threatened before with a gun."

His concerned look softens, but it's still there. I keep a serious face, showing him that what I was saying was true. 

He finally shrugs. "Ok.", he mutters. 

He pulls me back into his embrace, and kisses the top of my head. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, telling myself that it was okay to close my eyes, because when I wake up, it's not going to be him holding me, it's going to be Pete.


	15. Chapter 15

Pete's POV

Patrick hasn't left my side at all. Every where we've gone he just clings onto my arm. I don't really mind, but it's worrying me. He's also completely stopped eating for the past three days. Even with his problem before, he at least tried to eat, but now, he doesn't even look at food. I've stopped forcing him, like I usually do, not because I don't care, it's just, he's been really off, and I think that's last of his worries, and mine too. I'm going to try to get him to eat something today, even if it's just an apple. I don't want him being sick on top of everything else he's going through. 

He told me a gang had beaten him up, but the more I see him every day, the more I know he's lying to me. 

We were currently walking to school right now. We were going to drive, like every other day, but he wanted to walk. I look down at him and see that he's looking at his feet, watching them move, or probably not even really watching them, too consumed in his own head. 

"Patrick?"

"Yeah?" 

"You know we're going to get to school soon."

"And?"

"Well you've been more...clingy lately, not that I mind, it's just, we don't meet again until third period, and I just don't want you freaking out."

I had gone to the store for a quick trip while he was still sleeping yesterday, thinking that he would still be asleep when I got back, but instead, I find him curled up on the floor, crying and begging for me. I don't want him having another break down at school, while I'm somewhere else, not being able to help him. It'll be even worse if it happens during class. 

"Sorry.", he mumbles, letting go of my arm. 

I quickly pull him back into me, not wanting him to think he was a burden. 

"I don't mind. In fact, it's kinda cute. I'm just...worried about you."

"I'll be fine.", he whispers out. 

He also hasn't been talking much either. One sentence response at best, in an audible whisper. 

As we near the school, my heart beat picks up, and I'm sure Patrick's does too. Someone walks into him, hitting his shoulder, making him whimper, and grip tighter onto my arm. 

"C'mon Patrick. I'm sure the music room is empty right now.", I say, tugging him to the side of the school. 

As we near the door that leads to the music room, someone walks out, almost hitting us in the face. I was about to yell at him, but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw who it was. Mark? Really? Why does he always show up at the least convenient times. 

His lips curl up, and he walks over to Patrick, pushing me over to the side. 

"What the fuck dude?!", I shout, trying to get back to Patrick. 

"Hey faggot.", he spits into his face. 

Seeing the expression on Patrick's face kills me, and I wish I could just kill Mark right here, right now. 

He shoves Patrick in the chest, making him fall onto the ground. He freezes, tears running down his face. 

"Oh c'mon. You're not even gonna try to get up?"

He kicks him in the stomach. I loose it. I can't just stand here, watching this douche bag beat him up. I throw myself at him, punching him anywhere I can. Before I realize what I'm actually doing, Mark was on the floor, blood all over my hands and his face. 

I stand up, my mouth falling open, still in shock of what I actually did. The bell rings, and Mark runs off. 

I stare at my hands before the quiet whimper pulls me back out of the trance. I run over to Patrick that was still on the floor, crying into his knees. 

"Patrick, are you ok?"

He doesn't respond. He just keeps shaking and crying. 

"Is it really bad?"

He slowly nods. I stand up, trying to pull him up with me, but he's frozen in the position. I crouch down again, slowly petting his back. 

"C'mon Patrick. I'll take you back home."

He shakily stands up, holding hard onto my hand. We start back towards his house. I look down at him. You can practically see his body trembling. I lift up our tangled hands and kiss the top of his. 

He's lying about what happened, I know he is, and I'm going to find out the truth.


	16. Chapter 16

Pete lays me down on the couch, and stalks off towards the kitchen. He shouldn't be here right now. He shouldn't have to take care of me like this. All of this was my fault. 

He walks back in with a cup of water, and a bottle of pills, setting it down on the coffee table. 

"I'm sorry.", I mutter out. 

He sits down next to me, gently pressing his lips to my cheek, "For what? Making me fall for you? Because you're ruining my life. I don't think it's healthy to love someone so much."

I feel the corners of my lips rising, and I let out a small chuckle. He hands me the water, and drops the pill in my hand. 

"It's a sleeping pill. You didn't get much sleep last night."

"Just one?"

"They're really strong. I shouldn't really even give you one, but I don't think you'll manage if you don't take it."

I put the pill on my tongue, forming a bitter taste, and gulp down the glass of water. I then lay down, pulling Pete with me. He wraps his arms around me, and I push my body as close as I can against his. 

"You're staying, right?"

"I'm staying."

And with that, I close my eyes, and get the much deserved sleep. 

*

I just had another panic attack. This was the third one this week. I look at my wet, naked body in the mirror (he just got out of the shower you perve). The bruises were finally starting to fade, and soon, I wouldn't have any physically evidence of him ever again. But that wasn't enough, it never will be. 

I slam my fist against the mirror in frustration, causing some parts to break into pieces, and cut my hand. I look down at the shattered pieces of glass. I've heard about people who take out their pain and anger in a different way, but I've never thought much of it. 

I pick up a piece and look at my reflection. Tears were falling down my face and onto the jagged piece. I slowly pull out my arm, lifting it to the pale, bruised skin. Before I could finally push it in, a knock on the door stops me, but my eyes and hands don't move. 

"Patrick? Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

And I yell at myself in my head for making my voice crack because soon the door flies open, startling me, making me drop the lethal item. 

I start sobbing, my entire body shaking from it, but I don't look up because I know all I'll see is the look of disappointment. 

He kneels down next to me. I can hear him saying my name, but it doesn't register. I finally look up when his hands are on my shoulder, shaking it. 

"Look at me Patrick!", he shouts. 

I can feal the tears from his face dropping onto my cold skin. 

"Why Patrick? Why would you do this? I'm here for you! I can't believe you would even think about doing something like this!"

"I-I didn't do it."

"Then why is there blood on your hands?"

"It-it was an accident. I'm sorry Pete. I didn't - I don't. What's happening to me? I can't breathe."

I can feel it, another one. I was having another panic attack. I was drawing quick gasps, and I couldn't do anything but try to slow it down. Someones arms wrap around my body. 

No, no, no, no, no! Why is he here? What does he want? I don't have anything left for him. 

"STOP! LET ME GO. I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING MORE YOU CAN TAKE!", I shout. 

"Patrick! Patrick please listen to me."

Pete. His voice. So soft and warm. I suddenly feel his arms, and not the monsters around me. I grasp for him, clutching onto the soft material of his sweater. He pulls me into his lap, cradling me like a baby, and patting my back. 

We sit like this for a while as he mutters "I love you" over and over again into my hair. My breathing finally calms, but I still don't feel anything but his body, and the rising and falling of my chest against his. 

"I'm sorry Pete. I'm so, so sorry."

*

Two Months Later

The vile substance leaves my mouth, but not the horrible taste. I stick my finger down my throat once again, and again, and ....again, until there was nothing left to cough up. I stand up and walk towards the sink, rinsing my mouth out. 

Nothing has gotten better. I still haven't told Pete, and the nightmares were getting worse. I told Pete I wasn't going to hurt my body, and I haven't yet (well, not in the way he thinks), but I've wanted to so many times. 

I open the door, but freeze in my tracks when I see Pete, and his heart broken expression. His eyes were glassy, and I knew my act was over. 

"I can't do this anymore.", he finally mutters out after minutes of just staring at each other. 

My heart drops. What did he just say?

"W-What?"

"Look at yourself Patrick! It's obvious you don't want my help, and there is nothing I can do about it! I can't sit here anymore, and just watch you destroy yourself like this! I just... I can't do it anymore."

"A-Are you braking up with me?"

"I'm sorry Patrick, but I have to go.", he says, walking past my concrete body.

"Wait Pete. Are you going back to your...dad?"

Just saying that makes me want to throw up again. He can't go back to him. 

"It's not safe Pete."

"Well I can't stay here anymore! Look Patrick, when you want to get better, come talk to me, and maybe we can work at being friends, but I'm not going to just sit here anymore, begging you to at least tell me what happened to you two months ago!"

I don't say anything in return. I just stare at the wall in front of me. He walks over, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, but I just can't do it anymore."

He walks out of the house, and closes the door to our relationship, and basically my life.


	17. Chapter 17

A Month Later

I haven't gone to school for a week now. It's just all too much. I haven't slept in three days either, and I think I'm going slightly crazy. 

I wince in pain as the blade cuts open my skin. I promised Pete I wouldn't resort to self harm, but he wasn't here anymore, so there wasn't a promise to be kept anymore either. Tears well up in my eyes as Pete crosses my mind. I haven't spoken to him ever since he left a month ago, and he hasn't tried speaking to me either. 

I let out a cry of frustration as I remember the boy he was holding hands with. I should be happy for him, and I am, because now he doesn't have to deal with me anymore, he's happier, and that's all that matters, but it still hurts me every time I see him. 

The nightmares have gotten worse, and so have my panic attacks. I can't go outside without having a mental break down, that's why I've avoided going to school for the past week. That and just the fact that I have to see him and his new boyfriend. I'm sure the guys perfect, and doesn't have anything wrong with him, and he's ten times more good looking then I will ever be, and Pete deserves him. 

I finally let the blade fall out of my hands. The tears start to fall, and they drip onto my wrist, making the cuts sting. I wash up the blood, and throw away the paper towels, but I notice that one still hasen't stopped bleeding. I run down stairs, getting the first aid kit, trying to bandage up my arm. 

I jump in shock as my alarm goes off, telling me to wake up for school. If only it knew that I've already been awake for a while now.

*

Pete's POV

"Hey handsome.", Dallon says as he walks over to where I'm sitting. 

I smile back and make room for him. It's been a month since I've last talked to Patrick, and he still hasn't left my head. I hate myself so much for leaving him, especially when he needed me the most. I should have just pushed through because after all, I wasn't the one have nightmares, and panic attacks, and being scared of everyone and everything. But even if I did try to go back to him, I know he wouldn't let me back in. I've fucked up, I really have. 

Dallon kisses me on the cheek as he sits down. I didn't really love him. He was just someone to keep my head off of Patrick. It's shitty I know, but what else can I do to make myself feel something? I remember when I would just drink all my problems away, but I sobered up, and I'm never going to let that happen again. Patrick wouldn't want that. 

Fuck. There I go, thinking about him again. 

"Why are you crying?"

I lift my hands up to my face, realizing that I in fact was crying. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to go."

I pick up my bag, running away. I hear him shouting my name, telling me to stop, but I just can't look at him right now. I really needed Patrick, but he wasn't here anymore because I selfishly through him away. 

I've really fucked up myself this time. 

*

.Patrick's POV

I finally went back to school today, and It went pretty well, until I started my walk back home and decided to go to the park. 

Pete and that boy were making out under the slide. I stand there for a good few seconds, just staring, trying to get myself to walk away. Finally, Pete pulls away and his eyes meet mine. I hesitantly turn around and start running towards the other direction, trying to get as far away as possible. 

I hear him shouting my name, but I just pick up my speed. He finally pulls at my wrist, making me cringe in pain, but luckily, he doesn't notice. 

"What do you want?", I ask, keeping my head low.

"I just...I wanted to see if you're...ok?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

He looks taken aback a little but regains his posture, dropping his hands from my arm. 

"I know we didn't get off on a good note last time we talked, but I still care. You know that right?"

"Look Pete. It's a good thing you left when you did, ok?", I say, turning around, starting my way home again. 

"What do you mean?", he shouts. 

I just keep walking, but this time, he doesn't stop me, and the tears really start to come again.


	18. Chapter 18

Pete's POV

"You ok?", Dallon asks, sitting down next to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? This wouldn't have to do with that Patrick kid, would it? I swear that kid has issues. "

"No.", I reply back, a little paranoid at what he said.

Of course it did. All that has been on my mind was Patrick, and how I should have ran after him, told him how much I miss him and want him back. Dallon is great and all, but he's just not him. I have to break up with him.

"Dallon?"

"Yeah?"

Oh god, this was cruel, all of this. I shouldn't have used him as a distraction.

I sigh heavily, "I think we should break up."

He stays silent for a moment, making me shift uncomfortably in the silence.

"Why? I thought we were doing good."

"It's just that everything's really complicated for me right now, and I just can't do it anymore with you."

"But I love you Pete."

I squeeze my eyes shut. This was what I was hoping wouldn't happen. He would get too attached, and when I broke up with him, because I knew I was, he would be heart broken, and it would be all my fault.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't feel the same way.", I mutter out.

"It's that kid isn't it? You love him don't you.", he says, more of a statement then a question.

"I'm sorr-"

"Just go.", he says, pointing at the door.

I sigh, but stand up and stalk towards the door.

"I am really sorry.", I say, before closing the door.

*

Patrick's POV

I've completely let myself go. I haven't eaten, bathed, or done anything in the past three days but cry, and cry. I can't live like this anymore. Every little things is triggering me, and there's nothing I can do about it.

What's the point of living this life when I spend every moment of it wishing I wasn't? I can't handle the stress, the memories, the nightmares, and just the emptiness of everything. It use to help, mutilating my body, but even that stopped working. If I were to just disappear, no one would care, and no one would notice. My family hates me, Pete hates me, and I hate me. Would it really matter if I just...ended all of this?

I walk down the stairs, and into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of sleeping pills. My breathing grows as I poor the contents out. There was ten pills. That would be enough. Pete did say they were really strong.

Am I really going to do this? Can I not just hang on for one more day? No. No, I can't. I can't do any of this anymore. I would rather be completely dead, then just be dead in a working body.

I look at the pills again before I put them one by one into my mouth, tasting the bitterness of the pills, and what was left of me. I swallowed, choking as the hard lump dragged itself down my throat.

I blinked, trying to feel something, but nothing happened. There was nothing for a few minutes. It was as if I never swallowed the pills. I was starting to think that I was probably hallucinating, but the sudden tug in my stomach made me lean over, puking out what was left of my body. Again, I hadn't eaten anything, and all I was doing was coughing spit until something red dripped onto the floor. I pulled my hands up to my mouth and it came back covered in blood.

And even in this moment of torment and pain, all I could think about was Pete, and how I would never be able to see him again. His smile, his eyes, they would become nothing to me in the matter of minutes. I wouldn't be able to hold his hands, and I wouldn't be able to kiss him. I wouldn't be able to say hello....and I wouldn't be able to say good bye.

I hadn't said goodbye to him. I can't die until I do. I can't die. I don't want to. I thought I had wanted to die, that death would be better then having to live through one more day, but I know now that, that's not what I wanted, I wanted Pete. I wanted Pete so much that the fact I couldn't have him was more horrible then death. But I hadn't even tried to get him back, tried convincing him that I would get better, for him, and I guess for me too.

I cough again, throwing up more blood and whatever was left of the inside of my stomach. I start feeling dizzy, and the knocking on the door sounded like there was a hundred different storms going on through my head.

Wait. Knocking? Who could be knocking at my door. The only people who knew where I lived were my parents, and...Pete. My parents had keys though, they wouldn't be knocking.

I use every last ounce of strength in my body to drag myself to the door, but half way there, everything started going fuzzing.

No! NO! He's right outside the door! I just need to see him one more time!

I fall onto the floor, and curl into a ball, unable to move.

"I-I love you...Pete.", I whisper out, before everything turns black.


	19. Chapter 19

Ugh. My head is pounding, and my body is itchy and sweaty. I strain to open my eyes, but soon regret it as light pours in. 

"Ugh.", I groan out in pain as I sit up. 

"Oh my god Patrick. Are you ok Trick? Do you need water? I need to get the nurse."

I look around in daze, still not exactly sure where I was, and who was talking. Everything slowly starts to seep in as I see Pete run back into the room. He must have went to go get that nurse. My head starts to hurt even more as I realize that I'm not supposed to be awake right now. I'm supposed to be dead, never being able to see Pete again. 

"Pete?", I whisper out, afraid I might scare him off if I said it any louder. 

"Trick I'm so sorry. I should have never left. I know I was an asshole, and I'm so sorry this happened. I love you so much.", he rambles out. 

Tears start to fall down his face, and I guess I was crying too because he reaches up and swipes them away. 

"I love you too."

He smiles and leans up, kissing me on the lips. We soon break apart though as the nurse walks in. 

"How are you doing?", she asks, flipping through her file. 

"Um fine, I guess."

"Great. Do you know why you're in here?"

I cringe as I think about what would have happened if Pete wasn't there to save me. 

"I overdosed.", I mutter out. 

Pete shifts uncomfortably in the chair, probably thinking about the same thing I was. 

"Right. Well I'm not exactly sure how to put this in a nice way, but because of this, we have to put you under surveillance for a week, just to make sure you're stable enough to go home." 

I nod and the lady smiles and walks out the room, leaving Pete and I alone again. 

"I'm sorry Patrick. They asked me why you did it, and I just, I couldn't think of anything else to say except for the fact that you were trying to....", he trails off, not wanting to say the word. 

I'm glad he didn't either, because I probably wouldn't be able to handle it.

"It's fine. I just don't know if I could stay away from you for another week.", I let out. 

I pat the space next to me, and he crawls in, wrapping his arm around me. I snuggle into his side, lying my hand on his chest. 

"Aren't you with someone?"

I had completely forgotten about that boy. He shouldn't be here right now if he was, it was just wrong. 

"Oh right. I broke up with him."

"Oh."

He turns around so that we were facing each other, and kisses me on the nose. 

"I love you."

I smile, happy to finally be able to say these words again, "I love you too."

*

"And this will be your room for the next week.", the same lady from yesterday said as she led me through the door. 

After they said I would be fine without having to be hooked up with the machines, they took me into the part of the hospital where all the other patients go if they had mental problems, or tried to....do what I did. 

"So just don't do anything stupid and you'll be perfectly fine. Oh, and visitors day is in two days."

She hands me my clothes and walks back out of the room. Luckily, they let me wear my own clothes instead of those itchy gowns they made the patience wear. Pete brought me some clothes this morning, but he couldn't stay long because of school. 

I haven't thought much about what happened two days ago. I would rather not, but it's all that's been on my mind today after Pete explained to me what happened after I passed out. 

I was pulled out of my thoughts as someone walks into the room. It was a guy about my age. He stumbles back as he see's me, probably not expecting to have a room mate.

"When did you get here?", he asks, sitting down next to me. 

I shift away, still not exactly comfortable around people. I haven't been thinking to much about what happened many months ago because of the meds they gave me, but my skin still crawled when it was in contact with anothers. 

"You're not much of a talker are you?"

I stay silent, not meeting his eyes. 

"I'm Andy.", he says, sticking out his hand. 

"Patrick.", I mutter out, but I still don't shake his hand. 

He chuckles, "I would say you don't have to worry, I'm not going to hurt you, but I'm sure there's a reason why you're in here, and the whole quite thing probably has to do with it."

I nod, finally looking up at him. He seemed nice, I guess. It would be nice to have one friend, I would have to be here for the next week. And taking into consideration of where we were, I'm sure he wouldn't judge me too much. 

"There you go.", he says, when I finally meet his eyes. 

I smile a little. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad, after all, it's only for a week.


	20. Chapter 20

Pete's POV

I shift around the bed uncomfortably, kicking the blankets around. This is pointless. I can't sleep without Patrick, it just doesn't feel right. 

I stand up, putting on my clothes and stuffing my things back into my bag. I was staying at his house because he didn't want me to go back to my dad's place, but it's weird being here without him. I throw my bag into the passenger seat and slowly drive off, prolonging the ride as long as possible. 

The door creaks open. I cringe, hoping he doesn't hear the sound. I walk into the empty living room, sighing out in relief as I see that there is nothing there but empty bottles and cans. I turn around to climb up the stairs, but stop dead in my tracks as I see him standing at the top. 

"D-Dad.", I stammer out. 

He walks down, a menacing look on his face. 

"P-Please."

He laughs, pushing me against the wall. 

"And what are you doing out so late?"

"I-I..."

He slams my head against the wall, making me whimper out in pain. 

"Where's your little faggot boyfriend now?"

I stay silent, but let out another whimper when he punches me in the stomach.

"I asked you a question."

"He's in the hospital!"

"Shows how weak he is. Can't even put up with a little fight."

He punches me again, except this time, he aims for my jaw, probably leaving a huge mark for tomorrow. 

"What do you mean?", I ask with every last ounce of air in my lungs. 

He drops me to the ground, kicking my body with each word. 

"Oh? He didn't tell you? Well, let's just say I had a little fun with him. I gotta say, you may be a fag, but you have nice taste in men, he felt great.", he spits out. 

And suddenly, nothing seemed to matter to me anymore, the kicking, and the pain, it was all gone. Everything makes sense now. Why Patrick's been so distance, why he can't stand another man's touch. Everything slowly starts to sink in, and I finally realize what had happened so many months ago. 

I slowly push myself into a sitting position, realizing that my dad was no longer there. I limp towards the door and peer out the window. His car's gone too. 

Pain consumes me, but this wasn't physical pain, no, it was far worse. My heart ached for Patrick. All those nightmares, and panic attacks, it was all because of him, my dad. And Patrick, I'm sure it was his...first too. 

I so desperately want to run to Patrick, hold him in my arms and tell him how much I love him, and that I finally understand why he has been acting the way he has, but visiting day wouldn't be for another two days. 

I grab my bag from off of the floor, and drag myself out to the car. I can't stay here, but I also can't go back to Tick's, at least not without him. I start the car, not exactly sure where to go, but I don't really care, I'll go wherever the car wants to take me. 

*

Patrick's POV

I smile a little at the joke Andy said. I was currently sitting with him in the main room. Well, it was me, him, and his friend, Joe. He was a little more intimidating, but I liked him over all. He didn't look at me weirdly for having cuts and bruises on my arms. 

A jacket. That was the one thing Pete had forgotten to bring me. 

"Patrick?"

"Mhm?"

"Is anyone coming to see you for visitors day?", Andy asks. 

"Um, yeah, my um...my...boyfriend.", I whisper out the end. 

"Cool. I think my brothers coming, but I'm sure my parents are still too embarrassed of me. What bout you Joe?"

"Wait, you guys aren't going to say that I'm messed up or anything?"

"You're in here for attempting suicide, we already know you're messed up, but that's ok, cause we are too.", Joe says, giving me a wink. 

I smile, happy to finally have people who don't look at me like I'm freak. I return my gaze to my book, but soon get pulled out again when someone taps me on the shoulder. I look up to see the nurse from before, handing me an envelope. 

"You're parents sent this.", she says with a smile, and walks away. 

My parents? They knew I was here? Why do they even care. 

"Well aren't you going to open it?", Joe asks. 

I tear my eyes away from the return address, and look up to see that the two were staring at me. 

"Oh, um yeah.", I say, still a little confused at what was happening. 

"Dear Patrick, your father and I had went to the house last night, only to find it empty. The neighbors next door told us about the ambulance so we came here to look for you, that's when we found out about what had happened. We won't be there for visitors day, but we will visit again soon. We hope you are doing well, and know that we love you, and glad that you are ok. Love, Mom, Dad."

I stare at the piece of paper, my tears smudging the ink. How dare they? How dare they think writing a letter, especially after what had happened, will make everything okay? Do they seriously think I believe them when they say they love me? They probably only wrote the letter to show the nurses that they weren't horrible people, even though they were. 

I rip up the piece of paper, throwing it away in the nearest trash can. I sit back down to find Andy and Joe staring at me with confused looks.

"My parents are horrible people, so that letter doesn't mean anything to me. They probably won't visit for another year or so.", I say, returning back to the book as if nothing had happened. 

They shuffle around, but soon return to conversing with each other, and soon, Andy was giggling at something Joe had said. 

They said the house was empty, even though I told Pete he could stay there. I groan thinking about what Pete had brought upon himself. Where else could he have gone except back to his house? I let out a frustrated sigh, dropping my head to the table, the book long forgotten. 

"You ok Pat?", Andy asks. 

"Am I aloud to make calls?" 

"Um, you can try asking. They monitor the call though, just to let you know."

I mutter a thanks and get up, looking for a nurse. 

"Um scuse me?", I say, tapping a women on her shoulder. 

She was filing in some papers at the desk that watches over the entire room. 

"Yes dear?"

"Can I make call?"

He narrows her eyes, thinking my question over, but finally sighs in defeat and pushes the phone on her desk towards me. 

I dial the number that has been practically engraved into my brain from day one, waiting anxiously as it rings. 

"Hello? Is everything ok?", I hear him frantically ask. 

He probably thought that something was wrong, considering that I was using the hospitals phone. 

"Hey Pete, it's Patrick."

"Oh thank god, I though something happened. Nothing happened, right?"

"Um no, I was just wondering if you were at your house."

"Oh, right, long story..."

I sigh, "I don't care, just be safe ok?"

"I promise, and I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you too. Oh and, can you bring me a jacket?"


	21. Chapter 21

Pete's POV

I shift around the bed uncomfortably, kicking the blankets around. This is pointless. I can't sleep without Patrick, it just doesn't feel right. 

I stand up, putting on my clothes and stuffing my things back into my bag. I was staying at his house because he didn't want me to go back to my dad's place, but it's weird being here without him. I throw my bag into the passenger seat and slowly drive off, prolonging the ride as long as possible. 

The door creaks open. I cringe, hoping he doesn't hear the sound. I walk into the empty living room, sighing out in relief as I see that there is nothing there but empty bottles and cans. I turn around to climb up the stairs, but stop dead in my tracks as I see him standing at the top. 

"D-Dad.", I stammer out. 

He walks down, a menacing look on his face. 

"P-Please."

He laughs, pushing me against the wall. 

"And what are you doing out so late?"

"I-I..."

He slams my head against the wall, making me whimper out in pain. 

"Where's your little faggot boyfriend now?"

I stay silent, but let out another whimper when he punches me in the stomach.

"I asked you a question."

"He's in the hospital!"

"Shows how weak he is. Can't even put up with a little fight."

He punches me again, except this time, he aims for my jaw, probably leaving a huge mark for tomorrow. 

"What do you mean?", I ask with every last ounce of air in my lungs. 

He drops me to the ground, kicking my body with each word. 

"Oh? He didn't tell you? Well, let's just say I had a little fun with him. I gotta say, you may be a fag, but you have nice taste in men, he felt great.", he spits out. 

And suddenly, nothing seemed to matter to me anymore, the kicking, and the pain, it was all gone. Everything makes sense now. Why Patrick's been so distance, why he can't stand another man's touch. Everything slowly starts to sink in, and I finally realize what had happened so many months ago. 

I slowly push myself into a sitting position, realizing that my dad was no longer there. I limp towards the door and peer out the window. His car's gone too. 

Pain consumes me, but this wasn't physical pain, no, it was far worse. My heart ached for Patrick. All those nightmares, and panic attacks, it was all because of him, my dad. And Patrick, I'm sure it was his...first too. 

I so desperately want to run to Patrick, hold him in my arms and tell him how much I love him, and that I finally understand why he has been acting the way he has, but visiting day wouldn't be for another two days. 

I grab my bag from off of the floor, and drag myself out to the car. I can't stay here, but I also can't go back to Tick's, at least not without him. I start the car, not exactly sure where to go, but I don't really care, I'll go wherever the car wants to take me. 

*

Patrick's POV

I smile a little at the joke Andy said. I was currently sitting with him in the main room. Well, it was me, him, and his friend, Joe. He was a little more intimidating, but I liked him over all. He didn't look at me weirdly for having cuts and bruises on my arms. 

A jacket. That was the one thing Pete had forgotten to bring me. 

"Patrick?"

"Mhm?"

"Is anyone coming to see you for visitors day?", Andy asks. 

"Um, yeah, my um...my...boyfriend.", I whisper out the end. 

"Cool. I think my brothers coming, but I'm sure my parents are still too embarrassed of me. What bout you Joe?"

"Wait, you guys aren't going to say that I'm messed up or anything?"

"You're in here for attempting suicide, we already know you're messed up, but that's ok, cause we are too.", Joe says, giving me a wink. 

I smile, happy to finally have people who don't look at me like I'm freak. I return my gaze to my book, but soon get pulled out again when someone taps me on the shoulder. I look up to see the nurse from before, handing me an envelope. 

"You're parents sent this.", she says with a smile, and walks away. 

My parents? They knew I was here? Why do they even care. 

"Well aren't you going to open it?", Joe asks. 

I tear my eyes away from the return address, and look up to see that the two were staring at me. 

"Oh, um yeah.", I say, still a little confused at what was happening. 

"Dear Patrick, your father and I had went to the house last night, only to find it empty. The neighbors next door told us about the ambulance so we came here to look for you, that's when we found out about what had happened. We won't be there for visitors day, but we will visit again soon. We hope you are doing well, and know that we love you, and glad that you are ok. Love, Mom, Dad."

I stare at the piece of paper, my tears smudging the ink. How dare they? How dare they think writing a letter, especially after what had happened, will make everything okay? Do they seriously think I believe them when they say they love me? They probably only wrote the letter to show the nurses that they weren't horrible people, even though they were. 

I rip up the piece of paper, throwing it away in the nearest trash can. I sit back down to find Andy and Joe staring at me with confused looks.

"My parents are horrible people, so that letter doesn't mean anything to me. They probably won't visit for another year or so.", I say, returning back to the book as if nothing had happened. 

They shuffle around, but soon return to conversing with each other, and soon, Andy was giggling at something Joe had said. 

They said the house was empty, even though I told Pete he could stay there. I groan thinking about what Pete had brought upon himself. Where else could he have gone except back to his house? I let out a frustrated sigh, dropping my head to the table, the book long forgotten. 

"You ok Pat?", Andy asks. 

"Am I aloud to make calls?" 

"Um, you can try asking. They monitor the call though, just to let you know."

I mutter a thanks and get up, looking for a nurse. 

"Um scuse me?", I say, tapping a women on her shoulder. 

She was filing in some papers at the desk that watches over the entire room. 

"Yes dear?"

"Can I make call?"

He narrows her eyes, thinking my question over, but finally sighs in defeat and pushes the phone on her desk towards me. 

I dial the number that has been practically engraved into my brain from day one, waiting anxiously as it rings. 

"Hello? Is everything ok?", I hear him frantically ask. 

He probably thought that something was wrong, considering that I was using the hospitals phone. 

"Hey Pete, it's Patrick."

"Oh thank god, I though something happened. Nothing happened, right?"

"Um no, I was just wondering if you were at your house."

"Oh, right, long story..."

I sigh, "I don't care, just be safe ok?"

"I promise, and I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you too. Oh and, can you bring me a jacket?"


	22. Chapter 22

I drop my bag onto the bed, soon following after it. The hospital bed was not as comfortable as my own, and it definitely wasn't as welcoming. I don't bother to take off my jackets as I snuggle up with the pillow.

Pete dropped me off, telling me he was going to do some grocery shopping, considering I haven't done that in a long time.

I feel the aching feeling of fatigue, and my eye lids get heavy. If it wasn't for the fact that I haven't gotten it in a while, sleep wouldn't have been a very appealing option. The room also did help a little, something that was a bit more familiar than that plain, white room. It also meant that by the time I get up, Pete would be here.

With that in mind, I let my eyelids fall and I soon drown in the sea of darkness and dreams, or perhaps nightmares.

*

I push myself up slowly, my head a little dizzy from just waking up. I look at the clock but groan when I see that I've only been asleep for two hours. I'm eager to finally be able to spend time with Pete after all these months, but I was honestly hoping to get a little bit more sleep. Even though I was back at my house, and Pete was here, I still would probably not get much of it. 

I climb out of the bed, untangling myself from the sheets, and walk over to the closet, picking out random clothes to switch into. I walk downstairs, hearing rustling in the kitchen.

"Pete?"

No one answers, making me freeze in my tracks. Is someone else here? My breathing starts to rapidly increase and so does my heart beat, making me shake a little. Finally, Pete emerges from the kitchen. I sigh in relief, but he probably still sees my distress.

"Hey. Didn't know you were awake."

Right. He just didn't hear me.

"I just woke up."

He frowns, walking over to me.

"I was hoping you would get more sleep.", he says, loosely putting his arms around my waist.

He was taller then me, and I was standing on one of the steps, making us just about the same height.

"I'm sure I'll sleep again later."

He nods, pulling me into him. He's been giving me hugs, and showing me affection every time he gets. I don't mind of course, but it's kind of weird.

"I made food."

He pulls me towards the direction of the kitchen before I could protest. I had eaten more at the hospital, but barely. The only reason why I did was because the nurses would check how much food you had left over. Of course I would still throw up most of it, but there was usually someone in the restrooms, so I couldn't always do it.

I stare at the plate of spaghetti I didn't know Pete could make. He was sitting right across from me, starting in on his own.

"Didn't know you could make this."

He just sends me a smile, telling me I wasn't going to get away with not eating it. I sigh, and hesitantly pick up the fork. It was good, and that was exactly what I didn't wish for.

I finished a quarter of the plate, but was already on the verge of just puking up everything in my stomach right then and there. I stand up, feeling disgusting, and fill a cup up with water, gulping it down.

Pete walks in moments later with the two plates, throwing away the rest of the content and setting it in the sink.

"Sorry.", I mutter out.

He walks over to me, pressing a gentle kiss on my cheeks.

"You did great."

I look up at him, about to reply, but his emotion catches me off guard. He looked a little worried and hesitant, like he really wanted to say something.

"What is it?"

"I need to...talk to you...about something."

I nod, allowing him to continue. He grabs my hand leading me towards the living room. We sit down on the couch, but he shifts awkwardly away from me. I raise my eyebrow, obviously confused at his weird actions. 

"Is everything ok?"

He sighs, looks down, and then looks back up at me. 

"I know what happened."

What? What happened? Did I do something? I sit here, staring at him as if he had spoken in another language. He might as well have, considering I had no idea what he was talking about. 

"You know, the reason why all of this started."

My stomach drops, and suddenly, I can hear my world shattering. The walls crumble, and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. Pete wasn't supposed to know what happened. How did he even know? I haven't told anyone, and does he know too who do did it?

"Why didn't you tell me."

I don't answer back, partly because I didn't want to, but mostly because I just couldn't. I felt my throat closing up. My breathing hitches, and I can feel a panic attack coming on. He puts a hand on my leg, but I pull back, sliding towards the end of the couch, away from him. 

"Patrick calm down. I'm not mad, or disgusted, or anything. Everything's going to be ok."

He pulls me towards him, wrapping an arm around my shaking body. It's like this every time. I have a panic attack, he holds me, tells me everything's going to be okay, and I believe it. I calm down, only to have it happen again later. 

It's never going to be okay. It's never going to go away. I would never be able to look at my skin again and not feel an aching need. I would never be able to look at food again without wanting to throw up, and I would never, ever know what it would be like to have my virginity taken away by someone I loved, by someone I cared about, by someone who cared about me. 

He tries to ease my shaking, but it's only making it worse. I start to cry and I don't think anyone, not even Pete is going to be able calm me down.

I think back to my first day of school, and the first time I met Pete. I finally had a friend, someone who finally cared about me. I had been so alone for years, and now, I wasn't. 

I cling on to him, my arms around his waist. My face is pressed against his chest, and I swear I've never been so physically close to him. His hands run through my hair, and he whispers words into my ear. 

"I'm sorry Patrick. If I never got you involved with my life, and...my dad, all of this would never have happened."

I shake my head, my cheek rubbing against the soft material of his t shirt. I didn't want to here him say how this was all his fault, and that he felt guilty, and that I should never have met him, and all that stupid crap that's going to lead to us breaking up again. I wouldn't be able to stand being alone like that. I would die and this time, permanently. 

"I'm sorry, all of this is my fault.", he continues.

"Shut up.", I barely stutter out, his chest muffling my voice. 

"Maybe it would be best if-"

I push myself off of him, pushing him back in the process too. Anger rushes through me. I'm not going to let him go again, because we both know that it's not the best idea, and it's not going to solve anything. 

"You can't leave...again.", I say, my voice breaking at the end. 

Pete's face drops and he probably feels guilty about leaving me before. 

"But I don't want you to get -"

"Hurt? It already happened. The only person who can hurt me more is you, and that's only if you decided to leave."

The tears stopped, but that was only because of how angry I was.

"But I'll only make things wor-"

"But you're also the only person who can make me better.", I finish. 

He looks at me and I can't exactly tell what he's thinking about. 

I look down at my bare arms. I was just wearing a t shirt. The thin lines, clashing with the bigger, deeper ones, made me flinch a little. 

"Please don't leave.", I say, my voice cracking. 

He crawls over, pulling me into him. I wrap my arms around his neck, letting my head wrest in the crook of his neck. 

"Patrick, I think you should go back to the... hospital.", he says after a few minutes of silence. 

What does he mean? I just left, I can't go back. I can't be away from him. Why can't he understand that. 

"Pete, I can't."

"You could get better. I wouldn't be able to do that for you. I would just mess things up. I'm not leaving you, or throwing you away, I just want to see you happy."

"Please, please don't take me back. I want to be with you."

His grip around my body tightens, meaning he heard me, but he doesn't reply.

"Please Pete. I can't be away from you."

And I hate feeling like I need someone, because I've been dependent on myself for so long, but I need Pete, and my previous actions made that very clear. 

"Pete?"

"Ok. I won't, but Patrick, you have to promise me that you'll try to get better, not for me, but for yourself."

"I promise, just please don't leave."

"I promise I won't leave." 

I snuggle up close to him, lifting my face up to see if he was telling me the truth. He smiles and kisses me on the lips. 

"I love you."

I smile back and rest my head against him again. 

"I love you too."


	23. Chapter 23

"I think you should see a therapist Patrick."

I lift my head up and look at him. Judging by his face, I think he's being serious. We were sitting in my living room, me reading a book, and him writing something in his journal. 

"What are you writing about?"

He looks down at his book, as if he didn't even know what he was doing. He closes it and walks over, sitting down next to me. 

"Just some lyrics."

"You write lyrics?"

"A little. I kinda stopped after a while, but I decided to start again."

I nod, closing my book to so I could pay more attention to the way his lips moved. I could just watch him talk all day. It sounds creepy, but I could, he's just so beautiful. 

"But c'mon Trick.", he says, nudging my shoulder. 

I sigh, "C'mon what?"

"You're changing the topic."

"What topic?"

His face goes a little hard, but his eyes are just as warm, if not more. 

I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He laces our hands together, and it fells nice, to be able to just sit like this. I never understood why people would always want to sit so close together, to always be touching, but I understood now. It's the best feeling in the world to be held by someone you love, someone who you care about, that loves, and cares just as much as you do. 

I don't want to see a therapist. I hate talking to people I don't know, and with my anxiety level now? It's going to make it worse. I would have to be in a room, with a closed door, with someone I didn't know for an entire hour, and Pete wouldn't be there. I would have to tell someone about things I've never told another soul before, not even Pete. 

And I never understood that. How it makes everything better, just by being able to tell someone something you can't tell others. I guess it's like when you keep a secret though, right? You want to tell someone, you have to, you can't contain it, and you feel like you're going to burst if you don't. 

But will a therapist really help me? I guess it won't hurt to try. I promised Pete I would get better, and I do want to get better, but it still scares me. I'm not sure what, or why, but it just does. 

"Can't I just talk to you?", I say jokingly. 

Of course he doesn't laugh. I was just trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes are just begging me. 

"Ok, Ok.", I finally say. 

The corner of his lips lift, and I'll do anything to see him smile like that. Everything has just been chaotic lately, all our emotions jumbling together,but in the end, it's just the two of us, and that's all we have. He just wants to see me happy, and I just want to see him smile. 

I lift my hand up to his face, caressing his cheek, but somethings weird. I look at his skin more closely and it seems powdering and distorted. I rub my fingers against it and something smears off and onto my skin. 

"Pete? Why are you wearing this?", I say, showing him my hand. 

He covers his cheek, coughing into his hand to try to cover up what just happened. 

"Um, excuse me. I just ugh-"

He tries to get off, but our hands were still entwined, causing me to pull him back. 

"Pete, tell me what's wrong."

His face has guilt written all over it, and I don't understand why. What could he have done that was so bad he had to lie about it to me?

"I just, I went back to my...dad's place yesterday.", he says hesitantly, still keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. 

"But you were with me the entire day yesterday...", I trail off, remembering last night, or I should say this morning.

Pete couldn't sleep, and he decided to go for a walk. It was two in the morning, and I had finally fallen asleep, so he didn't want me to go with him, even though I offered it. 

"You said you went for a walk."

"I did, but then I ended up at the house. I wasn't even paying attention, I swear I wasn't deliberately going there."

I stare at him longer, but sigh, not seeing the point in bickering about what he did. It's not like we could change it anyways. 

"He hit you again, didn't he?", I say, more like a statement then a question. 

He doesn't respond but that was an answer itself. I stand up, earning a questioning look from him. 

"Just wait here.", I say, annoyance in my tone. 

I already know about his dad, he doesn't have to hide that anymore. 

I come back with a wet wash cloth. I sit back down next to him, except I was facing him this time. I bring the rag up to his face and start to gently wipe at the makeup. It mostly just smudges, so I push a little harder, him responding with a grunt. 

The makeup finally comes off, and the bruise isn't very dark, but it was big, covering most of his cheek, and a little on top of his eyebrow. 

How can one man be so cruel? Sometimes I hate him more for what he did to Pete then what he did to me. 

"Is that it?"

His gaze drops, and he's focusing on his fingers that are messing with the hem of my shirt. I put my hand on his leg, and gently rub it, trying to coax him into telling me what else he did. 

He sighs, but picks up his shirt slowly. I hold back from gasping as I stare at the bruises formed on his stomach and ribs. It looked like weeks of pent up anger was put into this. I lift my hand up, running it over his bare skin.

"It's fine Trick. There's nothing you can do now. I took some pain killers, and I did put some ice on it, and there's nothing that can't be fixed with a little time."

I nod in defeat, but my hands don't leave his body. I can feel my insides turning, and bubbling as my hands run over the skin that has turned purple, and slightly green. I feel his body shiver, but he doesn't tell my to stop. 

He drops the part of the shirt he was holding up, and instead, replaces it with my own. He fists my shirt, and pulls me closer to him, our lips meeting clumsily. My hands still don't leave his stomach.

His tongue brushes over the bottom of my lips and I eagerly open up. He deepens the kiss, and now my hands are firmly on hist waist. I reach one hand out from underneath his shirt, and run it through his hair, and if it was possible, he kisses me harder. I pull away to catch my breath, and his lips go to my neck, gently kissing them, but it soon turns into sucking. 

I can feel his teeth against my neck, and everything he was doing felt so good. I let out a soft moan, and blush, realizing that he probably just heard that. He moves his mouth back to mine, and we go back to making out, his body starting to move against mine, and now I'm really breathing hard. He lets out out a deep sigh, his entire body shaking. 

His hands slip under my shirt, and my tongue stops moving. I go rigid, and I don't know why I stopped. He opens his eyes, clearly confused at what was happening, wondering why I stopped moving. 

"What's wrong?"

I shake my head, and reattach our lips. We go back to what we were doing, but I can't seem to focus, not that I was able to focus before, but at least I was aware of his lips and body. I respond slowly to his touch and motions, but I ease up to it after a few seconds, until his hands slide under the waistline of my pants. 

Unlike before, everything completely stops. I pull away, falling back. I try to push myself back up but my arms were weak and shaking. I try to shake them out, doing anything to try to snap out of it, but nothing seems to work. My body was reacting on it's own, not listening to my head, because I knew there was no danger. It was just Pete, it was always just Pete, but the other half of me, the one that's suffering, it won't listen. And suddenly I'm not in my living room anymore, no, I'm at the alley way.

I pull at my hair, trying to get my brain to focus on something else, the pain of the tugging that I was doing to myself. I'm on the verge of collapsing when it all starts to fade, and I can faintly hear Pete's voice over the sound of the blood rushing through my veins. 

"I'm s-sorry.", I stumble out. 

And they just keep falling out, like word vomit. I keep apologizing, and apologizing and I know I'm doing it, and I'm trying to stop but it just keeps coming, and coming. 

"Hey, hey, it's ok. It's not your fault.", he says, rubbing my arms. 

I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for Pete. That's all I've been trying to do all this time. The starving myself, the hurting myself so that I wouldn't hurt him, it was all because of him. It wasn't his fault, but it was for him, and so was the 'getting better' thing. That's what I thought all this time. But it's not that anymore. He doesn't go through my head like he use to when I did those things.

When I was starving myself, I would think about how skinny I would be, and how Pete would love me more, and when I cut myself, it was a way to cover up my anger and emotion, a way to do it so that I wouldn't hurt anyone but myself. But then I became dependent on it, because it wasn't for Pete anymore, it was for myself, so that I wouldn't go crazy. 

But I can't do this anymore. I can't live with all of this shit on me, not being able to have an intimate relationship with my own boyfriend because of it, not being able to look at myself without wanting to throw up. No one should live like this. I need to get better, but it's not for Pete. I have to get better for myself, and I'm going to, I need to. 

I will.


	24. Chapter 24

The empty waiting room fills with the sound of my tapping, and I'm pretty sure the lady working here was going to murder me if it wasn't for the fact that I was a patient.

I was in the waiting room of the office of my new therapist. I sigh, shuffling around for the hundredth time in the stiff waiting chairs. Pete said his mother was friends with the guy and he met him a few times when he was younger, not as a patient or anything though.

He wanted to wait with me, but I would rather not have him see me have another panic attack, which is still not out of the question. Let's just hope the guy knows what he is doing and I don't end up wanting to crawl back into a hole.

"Patrick Stumph?", the lady calls out.

"No, just stump.", I mutter under my breath.

I stand up, my heart beat picking up. I walk up to the desk and she gives me a disapproving look but after a few seconds, points at the door behind her. I breathe out and walk in.

This was going to be a hell of an hour.

*

I sigh, starting the walk towards the diner. I told Pete to meet me there. I wanted some alone time to just walk and think. I don't do that much anymore, walks.

My hands are balled up in my jacket, but I ignore the unsettling feeling of someone following me, because there wasn't anyone following me. I pick up my speed, seeing the diner in sight.

I smile as I near Pete's car. I was twenty minutes early, so he was definitely earlier then me.

I walk in, immediately seeing Pete, and he the same. He waves, his face lighting up.

"Hey Trick!.", he says, hugging me like he hasn't seen me in forever.

He also kisses my cheek, making me blush. I knew the people who owned the diner, she absolutely adored me, and there wasn't anyone else here except for this guy sitting in the far corner, but he wasn't looking at us, so we knew it was safe.

"How did it go?", he asks.

I smile, "Fine, I guess."

"If you don't like him we can find another one, I'm sure.", he says, finding my hand under the table.

"It's ok. I just, I'm not really sure about this whole thing yet. Just give me a few more weeks with him and then I'll tell you, ok?"

He nods, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

I guess the session went well. I didn't freak out or anything. He asked me some questions about myself, what I like to do, what kind of people I hang out with. He didn't really get to the important stuff, but I could see why. He wanted me to trust him first, get use to him so that I wouldn't be afraid to talk to him, him doing the same with me.

The guy, Dr. Iero, seemed nice. Like I said, this was the first time meeting him, so I couldn't really tell. He smiled, a lot, but it wasn't one of those fake ones, the ones people give because they think they should, or they're forced. Or maybe it was fake, but it didn't seem like it.

"I just need to know that he's not doing anything he shouldn't, or that's making you upset, ok?", he says.

I nod, smiling at him. I look down at my plate, my stomach starting to turn already.

*

"Music. I would love to do something with music."

"Oh? Do you play instruments, sing?", he asks, scribbling something down on his notes.

This wasn't like those stereotypical therapy sessions you see on tv, where the guy lays down on the couch while the doctor has a clip board in hand.

Clip board? Okay, yes, but that was it. I was just sitting on a chair, and he was just sitting on a chair too, across from me. His room had some posters in it, ones that have those cheesy words of encouragement you see in school hallways, but other then that, it was pretty empty.

"I play the guitar, although I haven't in a while, and I guess I sing a little bit, but I'm not good or anything."

He smiles at me, and returns to writing.

"You have a boyfriend, right?"

I slowly nod, "Yeah, um, Pete."

I look down at my fingers.

"No need to worry, he's a great kid. I love him like my own son."

I smile at that. He might not mean it, but it's nice to know that someone loves him like a son, considering his father doesn't.

"Do you know anything about his mother?", I ask, lifting my head.

His eyebrows knit together, and he stares at the wall behind me.

"I guess, it wouldn't hurt, besides, it's not like either of them are my patients."

I nod in agreement.

"Well, from what I could tell, Pete really loved his mom. He'd follow her everywhere, even when she came to see me, he would always be trailing behind her. I've known his mother for a long time, we were child hood friends, but after she married, I saw her less and less. I understood though, it was because she was busy with taking care of Pete, but there was just something off about her. She didn't quite look the same anymore, which is why I wasn't that surprised when she left. She had told me she was having trouble with him, I didn't push to ask what kind of trouble, but you could definitely see it in the way she walked, and the way she talked. I was, however, surprised that she had left Pete behind. She wouldn't stop talking about him after she had him. Every time we were out alone, she'd be worried about him. She really did love him, but I just don't understand why she didn't take him with her. "

I process the information. Was Pete's dad abusing his mom too? I've never asked before, didn't feel like it was my place to.

"Did you every have a thing with um, you know...ugh, her?"

"Oh no. Friends, that was it, really good friends."

"Do you still talk to her?"

His face drops, and his eyes look lost in thought.

"You mean, you don't know? Pete doesn't either?"

I slowly shake my head. What do we not know?

"He clears his throat, pushing up his glasses that had slid of his nose.

"Ugh, our sessions about over. Next Thursday?"

"Dr. Iero, what do we not know?"

He looks guilty and he drops his gaze. Breathing in heavily, he finally opens his moth again, "Pete's mom, she....she died."

And even though I've never met her, I felt my heart breaking, breaking for Pete.

"How do you...when? Where? How?"

"About a year ago. She got in a car accident."

I look down at the floor.

"Oh."

I wish I could just punch myself in the face right now. Oh? That's all I say. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"I'll get going then, I'm sure...Pete's here already."

He nods, sending me an apologetic smile.

"I'll see you next Thursday."

"Ok."

I stand up.

"Oh and...I think you should start up guitar again."

I laugh, one of those laughs that's just here to break the tension, "Ok."

I gently close the door behind me, walking out to the waiting room.

Pete waves his hand at me, and stands up himself.

"How'd it go?"

"Good, I guess."

How on earth am I going to tell him everything that I just heard in there.

"Great. C'mon, you can tell me all about how agonizing it was because you didn't get to see me for an hour.", he says jokingly, bumping me in the shoulder.

We walk out of the office, and he drapes his arm around my shoulder. The place was about a twenty minute walk from my house, but I didn't mind, it was nice to just walk sometimes.

"How was it?"

"I have to tell you something.", I blurt out.

He stops at my sudden out burst. Great way to break out the subject Patrick.

I sigh as I open my mouth, about to start the longest conversation I would ever have.


	25. Chapter 25

I glance at my phone screen again, hoping to see it light up...for the millionth time today. After telling Pete what Dr. Iero told me, he went for a 'walk'. I'm not sure if he was sad, or angry, or whatever, it was just a rather blank face he had on. 

But he had already been gone for two hours, almost three now, and it was starting to get dark. Maybe I should go out and fine him. He said he wanted to be alone, but that's never what we really want. 

I stand up, slipping on a hoodie, and walk out of the house. Where could he be? He didn't take his car, and I saw him go left, so he might be at the park, it's pretty close. 

As I get closer to the playground, I see him sitting on the swings, shifting slightly. I sigh, and pick up my pace. I made sure to walk a little heavier, showing him that I was here, but he didn't move, or say anything, so I continued on until I was right next to him. I sit down, swinging lightly myself. 

"Hey.", I say.

"Hey.", he mutters out.

I hear him sniff, and he's probably been crying, maybe that's why he wanted to go. He hates breaking down in front of me, he likes to be my rock, and it's great, but I need him to know that he can't always be strong, and that's okay too, we all have our breaking points.

"You don't have to be embarrassed.", I say lightly, kicking at the sand underneath the swings. 

He doesn't reply. I reach out and grab his hands that were resting on his lap. As soon as our fingers lace together, he pulls me out of the swing and into him. I stumble a little, but I end up sitting on his lap, his arms around me. 

"Pete, are y-"

"I just really want to hug you right now, ok? Don't want to talk or anything, just want to sit here, with you, in silence. Ok?"

"Ok."

I hear him sigh, and he rests his head on my shoulder. I can feel his warm breath colliding with my cold skin. His body shook every time he took in a breath, but he would just hold on to me tighter, and it was nice. I've never felt so secure in my life, and that's probably why he was doing it, because it made him feel secure too. Everyone's left him, but me, and it's nice to hold on to that feeling, I would understand. 

"I love you.", he says.

"I know, I love you too."

"No, you don't know."

His grip tightens.

"I don't mean like 'in love' type of love, I mean, I really love you. Even if we weren't together, or if we break up tomorrow, I will still love you, just as much as I do right here, right now. I love you so much, and I can't say it enough. I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you.", he says, his voice almost breaking.

I feel something wet against my neck, and I realize he's started crying again.

"This isn't about your mom...is it."

"No. I mean, it should be, I should be crying about her, but...I'm not. I mean, it's sad, yes, she's dead, I'm never going to be able to see her, and that does hurt, but it hurts because I will never be able to know why she left, I'll never understand, this part of me is gone with her, and that hurts. But I'm not grieving about it either. She left me, and she and I both don't deserve my sympathy."

"Then...why did you leave, why ar- were you crying?"

"Because I was just thinking about how you are the only person left in this world now, who I have the slightest hope of caring about me, and it scares me to think that you could be gone, dead, any minute now. I don't know what would happen to me if you were gone. I don't think I would be able to handle it."

And his body starts to shake really hard from trying to hold back tears. I stand up, pulling him up with me, and walk to the grass, so that we could be more comfortable. 

He sits down, and I sit on his lap, facing him. 

"You can cry. I think about this all the time, and...you don't have to hope, of course I love you, I wouldn't be able to not love you, even if I wanted to, if that makes sense. That's how much I love, and care about you."

He leans his head into me, and we hold each other, scared that if either of us let go, we would lose each other. 

Yes, I really do love Pete, and every moment like this just proves it more. I've been scared, afraid that Pete didn't really love me, he was just using me as company, but seeing him like this, crying, breaking down because of the fear of loosing me...

I understood now, really, the meaning of love. My parents, they loved each other, Pete's parents, they loved each other, sure, but they never loved like this. The kind of love that isn't just affection, or attraction towards each other. We were different from them, and we weren't going to end up like them, broken up, or barley able to talk to each other because of hatred.

My arms tighten around him, and his does too.


	26. Chapter 26

"I think you should go out more.", Dr. Iero says.

I tug at the string hanging off of my jeans, "Yeah, I don't think that's one of my strong points, socializing."

"Yes, but that's the point, pushing your comfort zones. It' will help you get better Patrick."

"Fine, what do you think I should do to socialize more?"

"You're young. Go to parties, don't you guys have one every weekend?"

"You really think I get invited to parties? If i did, I wanted be here right now."

"Well show up uninvited then, chicks dig that."

I look up.

"Right.", he says, softly chuckling.

"Well, I think that our time is up. I have this mother next who genuinely thinks that her son will burn in hell."

"Can't you get fired for telling me that?"

"Not unless you tell them."

I stand up, and he opens the door.

"Oh, and I want you to go to a party, or else don't come back."

"Well, looks like I'm not going to go to the party then.", I say as I walk out of the office.

I hear him laugh, and a women walks past me, walking into his room.

Pete walks up to me, taking my hand.

"So what are we going to do this weekend?"

We walk outside, starting towards my house. We've decided to just walk to my therapy sessions, it gives us time to talk.

"We're going to a party.", I say. 

He stops, making me stumble a little.

"What did you say?"

I sigh and turn around. 

"We're going to go to a party. Dr. Iero said that it would help me."

"Um, ok. If you want to. I heard about this one going on tonight."

Great.

*

The car window shakes as we near the house, the bass of the music already loud enough for us to hear. I never understood why people enjoyed this type of music. No meaning, no originality, just noise, and auto tune. 

We come to a stop about a street away from the house, though it was so big, we could see it from here. I walk out, and immediately latching onto Pete's arms, already growing anxious. 

"Don't leave me alone, ok?"

"Of course not.", he says, putting an arm around me.

I shrug it off, feeling guilty I'm choosing to hide away again when I told Pete I wanted to be out.

"Hey it's fine. I get it. I'm just proud of you for doing this, ok? I love you.", he says, as if reading my mind. 

I smile, and walk a little close to him.

The door was open, so we just slip inside, going unnoticed. I've never been to a party before, let alone a party like this. There was someone in every corner, leaving barely any room to walk. We push past sweaty bodies, and find ourselves in the kitchen. 

I look down at the rows of bottles. I've never had alcohol. The occasional taste test when your parents drink wine, yes, but not like this. 

"Here.", he says, giving me a red cup.

"I don't know Pete, I-"

"It's just water, but you have to let them think your drinking so they don't offer it to you."

I take the cup, letting my hands brush against his. 

"Just stay close to me, and don't eat, or drink anything they give you."

I nod. He turns around and starts walking back to the crowd and I follow. Suddenly, out of no where, a girl falls into me, making me jump. 

"You're cute. What's your name?'

"Ugh, I'm ugh, er, Pat-Patrick.", I say, frantically pushing the girl off of me.

"Patrick? That looser at school? No way. You're so much skinnier, and hotter."

"I ugh...um..."

I look around, not being able to find Pete. Fuck. I just got here and I've already lost him. I knew coming to this party was a bad idea. Freakin Dr. Iero.

"Hey, do you want to go upstairs? I know which room has the big bed?", she says, sticking out her chest. 

"No. No. I have to go."

'Hey! Hey!", I hear her shout as I walk forward, but her voice soon drowns in the music. 

I look through the sea of bodies, but never once do my eyes land on Pete's. I feel my chest starting to get heavy as I take in, truly, how many people are in this room right now, just in this room. 

I climb up the stairs, looking for a restroom, but someones walks into me, making me fall backwards. I look up and see the guy who was with Pete when we....when we broke up. 

My mouth forms a bitter taste as I recall the memory of them kissing under the slide. 

"Oh hey! Patrick right?", he says, pulling me up. 

I nod dumbly along, not saying anything. He probably hates me for taking Pete away from him. In my defense, Pete came back to me. 

"Do you want to go dance?"

I raise my eyebrow, he seems to be overly friendly towards me. He puts a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. I haven't done that in a while, but with the loud noise, and me on the edge, I can't control myself. 

"You ok?"

"I just have to ugh...go..up um.."

"Hey, you mind if I ask you something?", he says, ignoring my obvious discomfort. 

"Um, I don't -"

"What does Pete see in you?"

"W-What?", I say, taken aback. 

"I mean, not to be rude or anything, but, just ...what does he see in you? I mean, I'm definitely better looking than you, smarter than you too, and I'm outgoing, you know, I like to go to these parties. I mean, I'm sure this is your first high school party. Pete told me he liked guys who could socialize."

Pete never told me that. If he wanted to go to parties, if he liked doing that, why didn't he just say so? I wasn't holding him back, was I? I'm not the clingy type where we had to go everywhere together. Well, I mean, at least I didn't have to go everywhere with him. I just felt more comfortable when he was around me, but that's different. 

"I have to go.", I say, getting too worked up for this right now. 

I just need to go calm down in the bathroom, and leave. I won't tell Pete, I'll let him stay here. I'll just walk back. It's not that far. 

I start walking again, but his hands grab my arm, pulling me back. I suddenly remembered the same exact feeling from when he was pulling me away. 

Breathe. Just breathe Patrick. This isn't him. He isn't here. 

"C'mon, I need to show you something.", he mutters, tossing the cup in his hand. 

The beer falls out, splashing some girl in the face, but she's so high, she just giggles it off. 

I try to pull away as he drags me up the stairs, my breathing increasing with each step. He tugs me into a room, and throws me onto the floor. I fall down, hitting the corner of the bed frame. He walks over, kneels down, and pulls me slightly up by the collar.

"What does a guy like Pete see in a guy like you?", he asks again, spitting in my face. 

I don't reply, just stare back quietly. He punches my face with one fist while the other stars wrapped around my shirt. 

"You must be good in bed then, I presume? That has to be the only reason.", he says, finally stopping.

And suddenly, everything kicks in. Why does it always have to be about fucking sex?! I push myself away, scooting back frantically, but of course, the bed was behind me, so I found myself pressing hard against it. 

"I'm stronger then you, we both know that.", he says, a slight chuckle in his words. 

He walks over to me again, and picks me up by my waist and throws me onto the bed. I look for something around me to hit him with, but there was nothing but blankets and pillows. He's about to crawl on me, but I kick frantically, and throw my arms at anything next to me. I probably look crazy, kicking and swinging at nothing but air, but he can't get close to me without getting hit. 

"Trick? Patrick?", I hear a faint shouting outside the room. 

I start screaming my head off. I can feel my throat ripping apart, but that didn't matter. I have to get away. I can't stay here. 

He tries to cover my mouth, but just then, the door flies open, and Pete runs in. He looks confused for a second, but soon launches at him as his eyes land on us. 

"What the fuck is your problem Dallon?!", he shouts, pushing him against the wall. 

"Dude, I wasn't going to actually do anything. I just wanted to scare the kid."

"You're a fucking ass!", and before any of us realized whats happening, Dallon's on the ground, his nose gushing blood. 

"Oh my god.", he mutters to himself, running over to me. 

"Are you, are you ok?"

Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. 

"Patrick?"

I said I'm fine. 

He puts his arms around me, helping me up. 

"You're bleeding like crazy. Can you walk straight?", he asks, pulling me out the door. 

Yeah. 

I feel the cool night breeze, and I suddenly realize that we're out of the house, and even though we were barely a few feet away from the house, I couldn't hear anything, no music, or screaming, nothing, just my breathing, which is still ragged and heavy. 

My face feels dry and rough, so I reach my hands up, but stop as I realize that I've been crying. I quickly wipe away the rest of the tears before Pete can see. 

We walk up to the car, Pete opening the door for me, but before I can get in, he stops me, turning me around. 

"It's always my fault.", he whispers out, "Dallon, and my dad....it's all because of me."

My body feels like bags of rocks, every step is becoming heavier and heavier, but I still raise my hand up, to gently stroke his cheek. 

I love you.

He looks up, his eyes looking glossy, and tears on the verge of fallling. He smiles, and pulls me into his embrace. 

Pete's POV

The entire car ride home is silent. I don't know what he's thinking. He hasn't said one word since we got out of the house, and his body seems limp. He felt like putty in my arms when I hugged him. 

I punch the wall infront of me in anger as I think about all the hard work going down the drain. I've been trying so hard, we've been trying so hard, trying to get him to open up again, to get better, but all of it has gone to waist. Every session with Dr. Iero, all a waist. 

I walk back into the house. Patrick needs me right now, and hiding out in the back yard wasn't going to solve anything. 

I walk to the stairs, about to go up when I see Patrick. He's sitting on the couch, looking down on the rug. 

"What are you doing?", I ask, walking over to sit next to him. 

He doesn't respond, and doesn't look up, but he does push closer against my side. I wrap my arms around him, bringing him closer to me too. 

"Please just say something, anything? I just want to know that you're ok."

He looks up, confusion in his eyes. 

"You haven't said anything, at all, since we've left."

He drops his head, pushing harder against me. Does he seriously not know? I've read about this, where if someone goes through truamatic things, they'll stop talking, and sometimes, they don't even realize.

I suddenly panic. No. NO! Patrick, he was getting better, he was getting so much better. I feel his fingers dig into my arm. 

"Patrick, I'm not going anywhere...especially not now. I'm not going to leave you, I promise. I love you.", I say, kissing the top of his head. 

I feel his tears through my shirt, and I wish I could show him that I'm here for good, that even if he wanted to, he couldn't get rid of me. 

Why can't he just see that he's the one too perfect for me?


	27. Chapter 27

Scream! Do something, say something, anything! 

I punch the wall of the bathroom. I can't bring myself to speak. I thought I had been talking, but it's all been in my head, and it's scaring me. It's as if me screaming, back at that house, used up all my vocal ability. Maybe I'll never be able to speak again. Maybe I broke something? I should go see a doctor, but what am I going to say? That I was screaming because I was about to get raped, again. 

Quickly, I turn around, opening the drawer, and bring out something I haven't used in a while. I look down at my shaking hands, and take in a deep breathe. I push the metal into my skin, and slowly, painfully, drag it across. I let out a small whimper, but that's it. 

I bring it back to my wrist, and do it again, and again...and again. I've forgotten this feeling, but's it's different this time. All of this pent up emotions, I finally get to do something about it. Sure, there was therapy, but it's not the same. It's just not. I don't get the same type of relief. 

Before I can stop myself, the blade comes down again, not as deep, but just as painful. I gasp, but nothing else. 

I look down at the blood on my arms, but it soon runs down my skin as my tears fall onto it. I throw the blade across from me, and pound my fist against the floor. 

I'M SUCH A FUCK UP. 

I pull my legs up against me, smudging the mess everywhere. 

I stand up and walk over to the scale, slowly stepping on it. 

105

I've gained back ten pounds. I haven't eaten that much, have I? I feel my chest growing heavy, and I stumble off of the scale, and into the shower. I quickly turn on the water, not caring if it was cold, or scorching hot. I just wanted all this blood off of me, all this fat, all of me. I wanted it off. I want to be in a different body, I want to not be here anymore. 

I concentrate on the sound of the rushing water, and let it fill my head, blocking everything out. I can feel the vibration of my pounding heart, and that was it, the water, and my heart, that's all I paid attention to. I felt my breathing slowing, and the shaking finally went away. After standing in the stream of water for another few minutes, I got out. 

I glance at the clock on the wall. 9:30? I've been in the shower for an hour? I look at my fingers, and sigh. I slip my clothes on, and leave the restroom. 

I was by myself. Pete was at a party because I told him he should go to one. I mean, he did like them, I hated that he stopped going because of me, and besides, he's been stressed out....what with having me as a boyfriend and all. He was hesitant about leaving me alone at first, but went anyways. 

That was about two hours ago, but I doubt he's coming back tonight. I sigh, and climb under the sheets. I probably wasn't going to fall asleep for a while, if at all, but there's was nothing else for me to do. 

I slip my head phones on, because anything is better than just silence, and close my eyes, letting the world go fuzzy. 

* 

Pete's POV

I open my eyes, and blink several times, the lights from the window blinding me. I push myself up and rest on my elbows. Okay, I had a lot to drink, and I'm definitely feeling hung over. I look over, and I swear I've never moved faster. 

Dallon was lying next to me, shirtless, and still asleep. I look down and see that I'm shirtless as well, actually, completely naked.

Oh my fucking god. I can't have done what I think I did. 

I jump out of bed. Out of all the fucking people, why did it have to be him. I retrieve my jeans from off the floor, and slip them on in record time. I see my shirt on the desk, and I snatch it and run out of the room, pulling it onto me as I walk down the stairs. 

I don't even remember who's party this was, or where I even am. My heads pounding, and I'm just trying to locate the door. I quickly run out of the house, thinking that maybe if I run fast enough, I can escape last night, but I know what I did, and I hate myself so much for it. I can't even remember anything about it. I remember drinking my second cup of beer, and that was it, everything after that was blury. 

I get into my car, and I'm probably breaking the speed limit right now, but I have to get home. Well, it probably won't be 'home' anymore for me, once I tell Patrick what I did. He's going to break up with me, kick me out, and I don't think I can handle that. 

If you can't handle that, why would you cheat on him in the first place, you fucking idiot!

I park the car, and rush up to the house, fumbling with the key that Patrick gave me. Just touching it was making my skin crawl. I swallow hard and open the door. 

The house was quiet. I look at the clock on the wall and see that it's only five o'clock in the morning. I haden't taken a moment to stop and breathe since I woke up. I suddenly feel the tsunami waves of regret wash over me, and I crumble to the floor. 

I'm always fucking things up for us. I told him, I told Patrick I would never be good enough for him, and that I will always ruin us, and I'll ruin him too, and look at me now. Look at what I did last night. 

I feel my body shake, and I'm crying into my hands. He's never going to forgive me. Especially since it was with Dallon. God, he's such an asshole! He knew I had a boyfriend, he knew I was with Patrick. He purposely got me in bed with him for revenge. 

But this isn't his fault. He isn't the one with the boyfriend. As much as I want to blame someone, anyone but me, I can't. I brought this upon myself. 

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Great, now I woke Trick up. This was probably his first time in days he's gotten sleep. 

Am I even aloud to call him Trick anymore? I've lost that right, and every other right I had with him. 

I hear his feet against the cold tile floor, and soon, he's sitting down next to me, wrapping in arm around my shoulder. 

I shouldn't, but I lay my head on his shoulder, curling into him. I might as well enjoy it while I can, this will probably be the last hug I get from him.

"I'm sorry Patrick, I'm so sorry.", I mutter out. 

"I'm sorry. I hate myself so much."

"I fucked up. I fucked up hard!", I shout. 

"I slept with someone last night.", I finally blurt out. 

Everything goes still, and his hand is no longer moving, or comforting. He slowly takes his arms off of me, and I just realize how fucking tired I am, how much I want to lay down and just sleep, with Patrick by me.

"With-wtih....with Dallon."

His mouth drops open, and I can't look at him anymore. I look down, and I'm crying harder now.

"I'm so sorry Patrick."

He stands up and I can see his hands shaking. He walks to the kitchen, and comes back with something in his hand. He opens his hand and he has two head ache pills. I look back up, confusion in my eyes, but he doesn't look at me, just at the floor. I stand up, taking the pills, making our hands touch, but he pulls away, and points up stairs. 

"Patrick, please, I-"

He turns around, and walks to the couch and lays down. I sigh, and walk up the stairs. My head was pounding. I gratefully swallow the pills, and lay down in the guest bed. At least he hasn't kicked me out yet. When I wake up, i'll take all of my stuff and go. It's not me leaving this time though, it's him kicking me out. I feel my self start to cry again, but I choke it back. Just let me sleep one more time here, in this house, and I'll go. But I just need this one more time.


	28. Chapter 28

No one should depend on a person this much. In the end, someone always messes it up, and you know you shouldn't go back, or you know you should be mad, but you need them so, so much, so you can't help it. Dependency, that's one thing that almost always leads to an unhealthy relationship

Pete's fucked up, but so have I. If we were to count all of the times I've messed this relationship up, well let's just say Pete should have left long ago, and he did, but he came back. He came back. Shouldn't that be enough proof that he still believes in me, in us? Pete isn't that cruel, he wouldn't cheat on me just so he could leave this relationship, and besides, you saw how he, himself, reacted towards the situation.

I sit up from the couch, my mind too clouded with thoughts to concentrate on just one thing, sleeping. That's what it's always like. That's why I never get sleep. There's always something there, something I have to think about, something that won't leave me alone.

I walk up the stairs, being careful with each step. I walk down the hall and I was about to go into my room, I swear I was, but I somehow found myself in front of the guest bedroom. He didn't close the door, and so I just stood there, watching his stomach go up and down, in an even pattern. He was sleeping, yes, but it wasn't peace full. His face was hardened, and you could tell he was troubled, even in his dreams.

And even now, I still can't resist him. After everything that we've done to each other, put each other through, we should want nothing of the other, but it's the exact opposite. Pete, he seems more beautiful to me. I still love him, and I'm standing here right now, him still sleeping, after us just having a fight, and I still feel the butterflies in my stomach, every time I look at him. And I can never concentrate when he's in the room, because he's all I see, and all I can hear, and all I can feel.

I let myself smile. I let myself smile for the first time, in a long time, and I let it stay. And, I'm messed up, I'm so messed up, because I should hate him, I should hate him for doing all these things to me, but I don't.

I walk away from the room, gently closing the door behind me, and walk into my room. I would lay down in bed with him, but I can't sleep, and even though I know I'm not anymore, I still want him to think that I'm mad, because it did hurt, what he did, but I'm willing to give him another chance, that's what matters here.

I open the closet, ready to pull a shirt out when I spot something in the back. I don't usually open the closet from this side, but Pete left it open because he does, and that's why this was the first time I've seen it in such a long time.

I gently place my hand on it, scared it'll disappear if I make any drastic moves. It doesn't. It's there, underneath my skin. I slowly take it out from its hiding place. It's beautiful, just like I remember it. I open the case, and god, why did I ever stop?

Mom always said I was born to play the guitar. I personally liked the drums more, it felt more natural, but she loved the sound of it when I played, and so I stuck with it. I soon fell in love with the sound myself, but dad, well he hated it. He hated music in general. He thought that I was always wasting my time with 'petty' stuff like that. When was the last time I listened to music, played music, felt the music?

Truthfully, I don't know. I haven't really listened to music in a long time, and suddenly, I found myself missing it the most out of everything. Music, it use to be so important to me, I couldn't go a day without it, but...but how long has it been? Three, four months, maybe even more?

I quickly ran over to my bookshelf. One shelf held all of my favorite cd's. I frantically grabbed one, not paying attention to which one. I ran back over to my laptop, sliding it in, and my hands were practically shaking as I clicked on the volume dial.

The first guitar note, then the bass, and I can hear the drums now, feel it in my heart. It's racking my body, pulsing through my veins, and I haven't felt this good in a long time. God. How could I have let this slip. Music. I really needed music.

I walk back over to where the guitar is, and gently pick it up. I haven't played in forever, do I even remember how to?

I decided to just let my fingers do the work, not my brain, and soon, I'm playing a song. Something by Bowie I think. I'm not sure, everything, it seems so foreign, yet it seems like I haven't left it one bit either, like I've been sitting here all this time, listening to whatever I have in the computer right now, playing whatever I was playing on the guitar right now, but just like this, I can't tell who is who, and what is what. And everything is so confusing, but it hasn't been more clear.

A sound from the door way snaps me out of my trance. My head snaps up, and my fingers stop moving, and coincidentally, so does the song. It soon picks up again, but I quickly pause it.

"That was amazing.", he says, sleep lingering his voice.

He's really hot right now.

"Sorry I walked in on that though. I just...I just needed to grab some stuff.", he says, trailing off at the end.

"Well, more then some, because, well most of my stuff are...here."

His voice breaks, but he coughs, pretending like it was nothing. He walks over to the open closet, and starts to pull clothes out.

He's moving so fast, but time seems to be so slow right now. I just want him to stop moving, so I can concentrate, so I can figure out what we're going to do. But I can't stop to think, the one time I need to, but instead, my eyes just follow the rapid motion of his hands disappearing into the drawers, and reappearing with clothes that he's brought over, and I've never realized how much he's actually brought.

I've never realized that he's practically moved in with me.

I set the guitar down, but I can't stand up. I see tears falling from his face, and I want it to stop. He shouldn't be crying, he shouldn't be packing, because I don't want him to leave. He's moving faster now, and my heads hurting, and I want him to stay, but another part of me is saying that it's not going to work out. We've been fighting, all this time, but we've also been here, together all this time too.

Please, please just stop for a moment, just for a moment, so that I can think.

And so it does. His arms stop midway, and my face is littered with confusion. He's breathing heavily now, unlike the calm pattern from earlier. He's trying to figure what he's doing too, he couldn't concentrate either.

Why am I still thinking? There's no yes and no question, there's no yes and no answer because we were each others the day he walked into me. The day he told me he loved me. It was over from the start. We never could of left each other, even if he wanted to, and we just keep proving that, with the constant departures and fighting, and sorry's, and 'I love you's. So why am I still sitting here, letting him leave again.

I jump up, running over to him. I reach out and grab his hands.

"Patrick, what are you doing?"

He tries to shake me off. Why can't he just accept it? I'm giving him the chance again, but he isn't taking it.

"Can't you see I'm not good for you?", he says, a hint of desperation in his tone.

I drop his hands and bury myself into him, my face against his chest, and my arms around his body. His arms come around me, and slowly, but surely, his hold tightens.

The clothes have been dropped to the ground, some of it kicked aside by me.

I don't care how many times this takes, until we get it right, but I'm not going to let this go, let us go. I can hear the kick drum beating in his chest, and I can feel it travel through my body, just like the drums in that one song.

But, then again, what part of this is healthy anyways?


	29. Chapter 29

I strum the chord again, taking in every last sound and vibration. I smile as I set down the guitar. I've already gotten back to my old playing habits, and it's only been about a week since I've picked it up again. 

My phone buzzes on my desk, snapping me out of my haze. I walk over, picking it up. As I turn the phone on, I see the date on the phone. 

Great, I have school tomorrow. Time's just slipping by for me. I have to keep checking the date to remember to even go to school. 

My phone vibrates again. Right, someone texted me. Wait. Someone texted me. What?

I go to my messages, and there, on the very top is an unknown number. I hesitantly tap on it. 

Hey...so this is Andy. Remember, from the hospital?

Oh my god. 

Ah, hope you havn't forgotten. 

I quickly type a message back.

no course not. so ur out of the hospital?

yeah. so is joe

when?

we got got back yesterday

hope this isnt too soon, but when can we meet up

actually, that's what i was going to ask you about


	30. Chapter 30

Dr. Iero said it would take time, and that's all I really need right now, time. Time to forget everything that's happened to me, and time to figure myself out. With graduation right around the corner, it seems my times running out. 

Dr. Iero did get me to start talking again though. I still don't talk as much as before, but at least it's something. I won't talk to anyone besides Pete, and although he wants me to go out more, he's glad that I'm at least doing this. 

I've also started singing. I was singing some Michael Jackson song the other day when I was in the shower when Pete over heard me. He said I had a good voice, and of course I didn't believe him, but Andy and Joe agreed too after Pete showed them a recording (that took Pete forever to convince me to do). I'm still skeptical, but I at least know I don't sound horrible. 

Pete and I are going over to Andy's house right now, and Joe's going to be there too. It's nice that we all get along. I was afraid that Pete wouldn't like them, and I'd be split because in a long time, I actually have friends.

Apparently, Andy knows how to play the drums, and Joe also knows how to play the guitar, and for once, the whole band thing is starting to come together. 

After our first hang out after the hospital, we found out that all of our childhood dream was to be in a rock band, but we never met anyone else who wanted to do the same things as ourselves, so we all ended up stopping. We're rusty, but if this is actually going to happen, we'll get warmed up really soon. 

"Hey Patrick!", Andy said, walking out of the garage. 

I look behind him and see a half set up drum set, and Joe's sitting on a dusty couch next to it, messing with a guitar. 

"Hey guys!", Pete says for the both of us. 

"Hi.", I mutter out when Joe waves his hand at me. 

I have a soft spot for that guy. 

"Well Joe and I were just setting up and getting things ready. You can go in and grab some drinks or whatever.", Andy said, walking back to the drums. 

"Where are your parents?"

"Their on a family vacation right now."

"Well....aren't you part of the family too?", Pete asks.

He chuckles, but doesn't reply. 

Pete shrugs it off and walks back to the car, me following. He opens the trunk and I look inside. We brought our guitars, and three really, really cheap amps, and a microphone stand we found at a thrift shop near my house.

"You really think we can do this?", Pete whispers to me, wrapping the chords around his hand.

"Mm, don't know yet. First time playing together.", I whisper back.

We watched them play last time we were over, so we knew they were good, but we've never actually played together. We decided to play American Idiot together for our first song, since we all knew how to play it on our instruments.

"You ready guys?", Pete asks as he finished plugging in the last guitar.

We all nod.

*

"That was amazing!", Joe says.

He hands me a slice of pizza, and I slowly take it. They all knew about my problem, so they didn't give me any weird looks when I stared at the slice for about ten minutes before deciding to take the first bite. 

As I was about to go for the third bite, the three of them laughing about some joke one of them said, I feel Pete's hand around mine, squeezing it. I turn around and he smiles.

"Proud of you.", he mouths.

I return the smile and finish the bite. This, this was good. I've missed this. I'm going to regret this later, but I deserve it right? I mean, I haven't eaten anything in two days. Which I know is bad, well that's what Pete says, but I've went four, almost five days without eating. This is nothing.

"So this band thing...are we...serious about it? Because I'm totally in for it. I mean, we were made for each other....I mean musically wise.", Joe says, chuckling at his own words.

"Yeah. I mean, I still haven't applied for any colleges, so that's my first year down the drain.", I say, picking at the pepperoni.

They laugh, and I manage a smile.

"Then we have to come up with a name.", Pete says.

Right, a name.

Okay, I guess this is it then.


	31. Chapter 31

Pete's POV

God. It's my first day of school, and I'm already late to third period. This is my fourth year transferring, and thankfully, the last. After I turn 18, my dad can't do anything to me anymore. I can move out, and stop moving. Maybe I'll move back to Las Vegas. I don't know. At least I had some friends back there, but here, no ones going to see me as anything more then a hot fuck body. I'm not being stuck up or anything, but that's how all the girls look at me, and that's what they say too. 

I don't think of it much though, because how can a boy covered in bruises be attractive? Besides, I don't swing that way anyways. 

I use to though. I'm bi, I like both, but I'm more veered towards guys, just always found them more attractive. But I use to do the whole "one night stands" type thing all the time. I started first because it was fun, it made you cool. We'd have competitions to see who could get laid the most. It was downgrading, yeah I realize that now, but I didn't know that as freshman. I just wanted to fit in. 

The beatings weren't bad then. I could easily cover up. I would think, "Well if I'm not accepted at home, I could at least be accepted here." But it did get worse. And they were harder to cover up now, make up wouldn't do it. And he was smart too. Most of the time, he'd think about leaving my face intact, but my body, no one has to try to cover up their body, it just is, with all the clothes and layers. 

And I thought that maybe they wouldn't notice, because girls liked bad boys right? I would tell them I got in some fights, but it wore off soon. People started to question, spread rumors, so much so that the counselor called him one day, and we were gone the next. 

So that's what would happen. This little game of who could sleep with who the most, it soon turned into a distraction. Getting so drunk, and then not remembering anything from before, including the pain, the beatings. It worked for a while, but when you're high, or drunk every day, covering up, lying, it's just not always on your mind. You loosen up, you forget, and there are only so many schools you can transfer too before you have to move to a different city, state. 

And this year, it woudln't be any different. I stopped sleeping around, because it got boring, and human interactions weren't a necessity to me anymore. But I would still get ignored, labeled as the trouble maker, and people would get too scared. I'm okay with it, I guess. 

But -

"Holy smokes."

Great. I ran into someone. 

"Sorry dude, but I have no idea where this class is, and I'm new here, and I really need to get to class."

I mutter out quickly. I'm about to keep walking when I see his face. It was dark, and bleeding. 

Either I'm really strong, or he's really weak.

"A-are you ok? I didn't do that by just running in to you. Did I?"

He shakes his head frantically. 

I sigh and look down at my sheet, and back at this boy, who even though was covered in bruises, was still really attractive. 

"Well music class can wait. Were you going to the bathroom?"

He doesn't respond. 

Great. A mute. 

"Here, lean on me. I'll help you to the bathroom."

He protests, but I ignore him. 

I might as well get on someones good side. 

*

He nuzzles closer to me, his arms tightening around my waist. I'm not sure if he's asleep, or not, but I've been here for the past hour, trying to shut my mind up, but it not working at all. 

"Trick?"

"Mhm?", he mutters. 

"What did you think of me the first time we bumped into each other?"

"I thought you were the nicest boy ever. I just really wanted to be your friend, you know. Why?"

I stay silent. Nice. That was the first.

"What's going to happen after graduation?"

"What do you mean?"

I shift and sat up, pulling him up with me.

"I mean, what's going to happen to us? I hear that most high school relationships don't last."

He stares at me like I'm crazy.

"We've been through more things than any one alone should go through in their entire life. I don't think our relationship should be compared to a normal high school one."

I smile. 

"Remember when I walked into you the first day of school?"

He nods, a sensitive topic for him. 

"I thought it was going to be another year of the same old same old, another year of misery.", I say. 

We stay silent for a moment. 

"Me too.", he finally responds. 

"You know, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You've caused me so much pain, but it was worth it you know, and all the pain we're going to cause each other later, it's all going to be worth it. Everything I've ever done with you, everything I ever will do with you, it's all worth it."

The little gleam coming from the bright moon reflects off his face, showing off his watery eyes. I pull him closer, and I kiss his for head, and then his cheek, jaw line, and finally, lips. Something wet collides with my skin and I realize that he's crying. I use my thumb to wipe his cheek, but he pulls me back so that our lips connect once again. 

He depends the kiss, and I don't hesitate to follow on. Soon, he has me against the head board, his entire body against mine. I put a hand securely around his waist, using the other to stroke his leg. He sighs against my neck, and I can feel my sweats getting tighter. 

He sucks on my neck, and it takes every ounce of strength in me to not make any sounds. My hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, and they soon slip under. 

No. Stop. Pete, what are you doing? You know you can't. I hate myself so much, and I want him so badly, but I can't have him relapsing again. All this hard work, all the pain he went through? I don't care if I have to go through it again with him, I never will, but it's not fair to him. He deserves to get better. 

I stop kissing him, and I pull my hands out, 

"No. Don't stop. I want to, please.", he mutters against my lips. 

'Patrick, I-I can't.", I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. 

"Please Pete. I trust you. You're not going to hurt me. I know that.", he says, desperation in his voice. 

He goes back to kissing my neck, and it becomes harder to breathe. 

"No-....Patrick pl-...ugh, please stop. We can't. I- I can't do that to you.", I say between heavy sighs, and I hate myself for taking pleasure in this. 

"I'm ready, I know I am. Please. Please, I want this. You're ...you're not hurting me.", he says, finally looking me in the eyes. 

There's so much hope in his eyes. He smiles, and I mirror. 

I lean up and capture his lips with mine. I shuffle around so that my entire back is against the bed, and not the head board, and so that he's lying on top of me. 

"I love you."

Patrick's POV

"I love you too." 

End.


	32. Epilogue

"Thank you Chicago! We love you!"

And that was the last show for this tour. 

"I can't believe it! Our first tour, that was amazing!", Joe says as we run off the stage. 

Someones hand enter twined with mine. I turn around and see Pete smiling at me. 

"Hey."

"Hey."

It's been two years, and he still makes me blush and nervous. I don't think he ever will make me not feel special and jumpy. 

It really has been two years. Two years since graduation, two years since we first met. And I've been so happy, so content with life. The things that have happened, it's never going to leave. I'll still get chills when I walk by a dark alley, or if I see a blade, but I had to move on, and I did, and I got better. And Pete's been with me every step of the way.

I've stopped seeing Dr. Iero. The last session was about half a year ago, and he was the one who said I didn't need it anymore.

Pete finally told the police about what had been happening for the past years, and he was arrested, and off the streets. I was his first 'victim', but if he could have done it to me, he could have done it to anyone, and I'm glad that chance is gone now.

I've stopped with the self harm. There's nothing but marks now, and they're not beautiful, they're far from it, but it does remind me of the time that it had not been marks, but something more, and it helps, to show me that I'm in a better place.

I can't expect it all to be gone like that, and even though it has already been two years, it's going to take a life time for me to figure things out, but the difference now, is that I have people, people who care, and people who love me. Pete, Andy, Joe, and the fans. I can't forget the fans. 

And I'm going to be okay, I know that for sure.


End file.
